


Gold Burns Red

by kiwiskreationz



Series: Gold Burns Red [1]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-19
Updated: 2016-12-27
Packaged: 2018-08-16 02:35:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 31
Words: 79,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8083312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiwiskreationz/pseuds/kiwiskreationz
Summary: Din is eager to find her own place in a world that wants to tell her where she belongs. When a group of her fellow dwarves embarks on a mission to reclaim the Lonely Mountain, she decides this is her chance to be a part of something bigger while keeping a protective eye on those she holds dear. Along the way, she discovers that a precious stone she found when she was a kid is actually one of the lost Silmarils and must protect it from evil forces attempting to claim it. (Disclaimer: I own nothing but my OC)





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> Hello readers! This first chapter is pretty short, but it acts more as a prologue than an actual chapter. I will be posting a chapter twice a week. Enjoy!

Chapter One  
  
TA 2869, Ered Luin, The Blue Mountains  
77 years before the journey to the Lonely Mountain  
  
Three little figures bolted past a stooped miner in a flurry of laughter, drawing the attention of the scruffy dwarf from the ore deposit he was carefully extracting from the wall of the shaft. As the path began to descend into a slope, Fili bounded over another dwarf worker who was busy collecting raw emeralds from the ground, pretending said dwarf was a boulder blocking his way. Kili followed close behind, mimicking Fili’s daring leap. By the time Din reached him, the dwarf had risen to complain, so she veered around him, desperate to catch up to her fellow hooligans.  
  
Although she was only a decade older than Kili—the younger of the two—the duty of looking after the boys was often left to her. The female population of the dwarves being as low as it was, she was expected to help out in such ways when the older dwarf women were occupied with other responsibilities. She had been playing with them since they were born and now that Kili had reached six years of age, he insisted he was old enough to brave the mines. So, they spent what time they could pretending to wage war with ancient villains and armies, their favorite of which was Gothmog, King of the Balrogs. They’d slain him half a dozen times already.  
  
“They’re back again!” Complained the dwarf behind them. Whatever response came from the first dwarf was too distant for Din to hear, but it probably meant that her mother and her uncle, Bofur, would be contacted. Ahead she spotted Kili and Fili strategizing about their next course of action with exaggerated gestures.  
  
“At this rate, we’ll never reach the battlefield before our troops are overrun,” said Fili, readjusting his large helmet as it fell forward, covering his eyes.  
  
“I think I have a—whoa!” Din lifted a hand to emphasize her declaration when her boot slipped on the damp ground and she was unable to stop herself from colliding with the boys. Tumbling they went, over the edge of the path to the next level a few feet below. They crumpled in a heap on an empty handcar. Kili grumbled and climbed off the wide hand crank in the middle, stumbling onto his rump next to Fili. Din brushed her dark hair out of her face and the three stared at each other. Laughter ensued.  
  
“An ingenious plan, Din,” declared Fili. It didn’t matter that this hadn’t actually been her plan. He stood at the front of the platform, pointing down the tracks, and shouted, “Charge!” Despite being older than he, he had passed her in height several years ago, a fact he never let her forget. Din had to use all her weight to shift the brake lever, granting hearty laughter from him.  
  
Fili had to help Kili pump his side to move the car, but slowly, it began to roll. They cheered as the wheels squealed across the iron tracks and picked up speed. Around corners and past miners they whizzed until they reached a wide open cavern that the dwarves had discovered recently. The glowing blue crystals that the Blue Mountains were known for scattered the walls, captivating the three with their illumination.  
  
As they started rounding a corner, Din abruptly spotted a group of miners loading minerals into mine carts at the other end of the the clearing and threw herself on the break. The boys hollered in surprise and the suddenness of the stop wrenched Kili’s small fingers from the hand crank. With a screech, Din lunged for him and barely managed to catch hold of his wrist before they both fell over the side of the path. At the last moment, Din caught hold of the ledge. She heard the air rush from Kili’s lungs as he connected with the steep rock. Fili was leaping to grab her arm, but the sudden pull of Kili’s dead weight ripped her grip from the wall and they descended toward the darkness.  
  
“No!” Fili screamed, still reaching for them where she had been only moments before.  
  
Din couldn’t find the air to scream and her mind stalled. The wall fortunately began to slope until Din felt the thick leather she wore scraping against it’s rough surface. They were not so much falling as they were sliding at a steep pace now. She reached out with her free hand, the other firmly gripping Kili’s wrist, until she found a sturdy handhold and the falling finally stopped.  
  
“Kili?” Her words wobbled with fear and the threat of tears.  
  
His small voice sent a rush of relief through her. “I’m alright,” he said. He must have found rocks to support his weight as best he could, because the pressure lessened. She looked down to be certain he was truly unharmed. The nearby glowing crystals faintly illuminated his features. Crimson streaked down his cheek where a rock must have cut or scraped it, but he looked otherwise in good health. His brown eyes met hers, alight with trust that she would see him safely out of this. A paralyzing fear gripped her at the thought of failing to do so.  
  
“Kili! Din! I’m throwing a rope down to you,” Fili called out. Sure enough, a tendril of rope uncoiled toward them and landed above her head. Her first priority had to be Kili.  
  
“Can you try to climb with your feet toward the rope? I promise that I won’t let go of your arm,” she said. Kili nodded and started to climb. The effort of helping him by lifting him put too much pressure on the rock she was holding and it started to come loose. When he finally grabbed hold of the rope above her head, she tried to shift on the wall to give him room to shimmy up, but her rock slid out from the wall. She had the sense to flip onto her back in the moment before she fell so that her back scraped against the wall, rather than her front. The rocks quickly bit through her leather shirt and dug painfully into her back.  
  
Fili and Kili’s screams grew distant until she could no longer hear them. The glowing crystals became less frequent the further she descended until finally, the slope rounded and she rolled onto stable ground in complete darkness, flat on her stomach. Her back screamed. As was instinct when one found themselves in the dark, her eyes searched for any source of light. Surprisingly, a small dot of luminescence greeted her a few feet away in the floor. She was grateful for this source of life, no matter how small it was, and pulled herself to it.  
  
  
It looked like one of the glowing crystals, but was a richer shade of blue. She carefully rubbed the dirt away from it until she could pull it free. The crystal was the size of her palm. The moment she picked it up, a warm pulse surged from it and it glowed brighter. Its light accompanied her in the time that followed. She wasn’t sure how much time, only that it felt as if days had passed when voices finally drifted down to her from men that had come to her rescue. That was the last day the three of them played in the mines.


	2. Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: For those who have not read the book, Bifur did not have an axe in his head in the book. While I found his character funny in the movies because of this axe, I am going to say that Bifur does not have the axe. I would like to add at least a little more depth to his character than the movie.

TA 2929, Ered Luin, The Blue Mountains  
9 years before the journey to the Lonely Mountains

The click-clack of Din’s shoes on the stone floor echoed around her as dwarves bustled about. She moved more slowly than the rest, trying not to drop the crate of salted meats she’d collected from the store rooms. Every evening, her family and others whom they considered family gathered together to share a meal. Through the years, she had gained a love for cooking and it was her turn to prepare the meal. Fortunately, others seemed to enjoy eating her food as much as she enjoyed making it. In a few days, however, she would need to send someone to fetch more of the spices she used.

A warm laugh behind her gave her a jolt of surprise. “Well if it isn’t Din, The Blur,” said Fili stepping into view beside her.

Din scrunched her brows together and shot him an odd look. “What are you on about?” She asked in her thick Ered Luin accent.

“Nothing. You’ve just been so intent on keeping busy lately. Everywhere you go, you’re just a blur blasting past like a rush of wind. What could possibly be so urgent?”

Urgent wasn’t exactly the word. At 78, she was nearing the age where she would be expected to find a. . .companion. She knew that no dwarf would approve of her wild dreams of adventure. She would be expected to settle down and start a family, a task that didn’t really suit her restless heart. It was also impossible, given that she had only ever felt strongly for one dwarf in particular. The pairing was unwise, for several reasons, so she’d always kept her feelings to herself. As always, she said nothing of her petty concerns and hid her anxiety with a smile.

“Well, we can’t all find excuses to lounge about,” she said. The metal beads in the braids of Fili’s beard jangled when he laughed.

“Lounge? I would hardly call combat training ‘lounging’.”

“The way you and Kili train, it is.” It had been too long since she’d snuck off to spar with them and found herself craving to do so. But, as usual, her responsibilities needed to take priority.

Fili held his hands out to the crate in her arms. “Here, let me take that,” he said.

“I’m alright,” she said pulling it out of his reach and veering down the hall.

“People will think it’s rude if I don’t,” he called after her as he sprinted to catch up. A commotion in the distance drew their attentions. The repeated mention of a name brought smiles to their faces and they hastened their steps. A bundle of dwarves were greeting Thorin Oakenshield with eager enthusiasm. It seemed he’d finished whatever work he had found in whatever human villages he’d been in for the past several months. His smile, which he didn’t do often, was heartwarming when his blue eyes found his nephew. Fili rushed forward to meet him and the two shared a familial embrace, patting each other roughly on the back.

Din’s pulse quickened as she moved closer. When those steely eyes flitted to hers, she averted her gaze as if she were preoccupied with watching where she stepped. Once she was standing in front of him, however, she had no excuse to distract herself. He was looking at her again and gave the briefest of nods in greeting.

“Fili,” said Thorin. His gaze lingered on Din for just a moment longer before he turned to his nephew. “Don’t be rude, carry that for her.”

A smirk quirked the corners of Fili’s mouth up and he stepped forward. “Told you,” he muttered as he lifted the crate from her arms. As if to boast to Din, he held it firmly in one arm rather than two as she had been doing. A pang of annoyance flared in her chest. Sooner or later, they would need to accept that she didn’t need their help with everything.

“But, I can carry—” She took a deep breath to calm her irritation and surrendered.

“How long are you here, Uncle?” asked Fili.

“Not long. I was close by so I decided to stop in to see everyone. I was just on my way to the store rooms to get something to eat.”

A broad grin stretched across Fili’s face and he patted Thorin on the shoulder. “You could have dinner with us! Din is cooking tonight and she’s very good,” said Fili.

“I remember.” A small grin lighted Thorin’s features. “Would you mind cooking for one more?”

“No, of course not.” Din shook her head more fervently than she meant to and felt redness creep into her face. She mentally scolded herself for acting so ridiculous. “Anyway, I should get back. I left several loaves of bread in the stove and I detest the flavor of burnt bread,” she said with a distasteful scrunch of her nose. Before Fili could object, she grabbed the crate from his grip and strutted around them.

 

* * *

 

Din pushed open the kitchen door into the small dining room, artfully carrying a number of full mugs. The walls shook with the laughter of its eight other inhabitants. Well, five of the eight were laughing, anyway. Din’s mother Thes and Thorin’s sister Dis sat at the end of the table with Thorin, talking amongst themselves. Din’s uncles, Bofur and Bombur and her cousin Bifur fell into the throes of a drinking contest while Fili and Kili watched them spill all over themselves with hearty laughs. Din waited to see who would win and was unsurprised to see that Bombur finished first.

Bifur and Bofur slammed their mugs onto the heavy wooden table in disbelief. “It doesn’t count if you spill half of it,” complained Bofur.

“You spilled just as much as he did,” argued Bifur. Forgetting that their beef was actually with Bombur, the two drunken dwarves began wrestling. Bofur knocked Bifur from his chair and their scuffle continued on the floor.

“It looks as if some have had enough to drink already, but I come bearing more ale.” Din set the mugs on the table and Kili reached for one instantly.

“What fair beauty is this that brings us such jubilee?”

“That was excellent flattery coming from a drunk,” teased Din.

“I was speaking to the ale,” said Kili with a wicked grin. She slapped his back when he started to drink and guffawed with Fili when it sent Kili into a fit of choking coughs. She gathered the mugs they had already emptied and turned to her relatives. Bofur and Bifur were still on the floor, but they were now flat on their backs laughing about something. Or nothing. One could hardly tell with drunken dwarves. Bombur had his hands clasped together over his large belly, his head resting against the back of his chair in gluttonous euphoria.

“Are you finished, Uncle Bombur?” Din rested a hand on the large dwarf’s shoulder to get his attention and he smiled up at her and patted her hand with his.

“Yes, darlin’, that was stupendous.”

“I’m glad you liked it.” She beamed and started collecting more of the dishes. There were simply too many, however, to gather in one trip. Her mother stood as Din made her way to the kitchen and followed her in with another armful.

Raucous laughter continued to perforate the walls of the small kitchen from the dining room. Uncle Bofur started to sing, though she couldn’t quite make out the words through his incoherent slurring. Smiling, Din set the dishes on the counter and dipped one into the large washing basin she had prepared and scrubbed at it with a rag until it was clean.

“I won’t be surprised if we find him under the table in the mornin’,” said Thes at her side. Din let out a warm laugh. “Here, let me wash the dishes. You’ve spent a lot of time in the kitchen today.” Din let her mother take her place at the basin but didn’t leave. Instead, she worked on drying what was clean with another rag. “Fili has grown to be quite respectable, I must say. Kili, too. He’s still a tad young to be thinking about a family, but he’s nearly there.”

Din couldn’t help a groan. She wouldn’t dare look at her mother’s stern expression, so she focused on stacking the dry bowls. “Please, Mother, not this again. I’m 78. You don’t need to lecture me on my future as if I were a child.”

“If you don’t wish to be treated like a child, then don’t act like one. You need to start thinking about your responsibilities to our people.”

Din set the stack of bowls down roughly in the cupboard. “What then? I’m to wait around until someone decides I’m good enough for the pleasure of spawning a rabble of children in their name? Dwarf-men are waiting longer and longer to settle down, so why should I have to worry about it so early?”

“Now, you listen here. If you think that rebuilding our population is beneath you, then you’ve got a lot to learn. We’re still nowhere near where we were before the war with the Orcs.” Thes removed her apron and tossed it in a wad onto the counter. “I knew letting you spend time with those boys all these years was a horrible idea, filling your head with all this nonsense. We don’t go on adventures. We don’t wage wars. They do. There aren’t enough of us dwarf-women to spare for these ridiculous flights of fancy of yours.”

Din’s face heated in anger. “Filling my head with nonsense? Just a moment ago you were tryin’ to marry me off to one of them,” she argued. Her mother let out an exasperated sigh and threw up her hands.

“I’m sorry you feel that my ‘settlin’ down’ and raisin’ you was such a waste of time. If your father could see you know, he would—” Thes stopped herself and pressed a hand to her forehead. “I’m sorry, it’s not fair of me to use your father like that.” Her features calmed and, after a pause, she left the room before either of them said anything else they would regret later.

Din took a deep breath to calm herself and washed the rest of the plates her mother had left. As she tiptoed to slide the plates onto a taller shelf, the door opened again. She turned and nearly dropped the plates as Thorin carried several more bowls, plates and mugs over to the counter.

“Oh, thank you. You really didn’t have to bring them all in.”

Thorin held up a dismissive hand. “Hands are meant for working.” While she once again attempted to slide the plates into their spot, Thorin plunged a bowl into the now mucky water. She was glad he did not offer to help with the plates. She’d never truly gotten over the heartbreak of being such a short dwarf and having it pointed out at the moment, especially by him, would ruin her already downcast mood.

She resumed drying duty until he realized how fidgety she was about him doing her work for her. He chuckled, a low, quiet sound that sent nervous sparks through her, and he plucked the drying rag from her hand so she could wash. They worked in silence until the job was done and then Din dried her pruny hands on her apron.

“Bofur says you’re in need of more spices,” said Thorin.

“What? Oh, yes. Soon, anyway. It doesn’t take much to bring out their flavor, so I still have enough for a few weeks.” A wave of paranoia pulled Din's attention to the door. Thes was unaware of the spices she used. She was distrusting of humans in general and would probably be just as skeptical of the spices grown by one. After their disagreement, she would hate to find herself in the squabble that would surely come if Thes found out.

“Where do you get them? Perhaps I could get more on my travels.”

“Erm, from a farmer who lives just to the west of Baranduin. Uncle Bofur found him by chance a few years ago and has been bringin’ the spices to me ever since. He's a funny man, so Bofur told me, and very nice.” Din pulled her apron off. In her haste and nerves, she forgot the stone she’d left in the pocket and it tumbled to the floor. Thorin stooped to pick it up. It’s glow was faint in his fingers, barely visible against the light of the room.

His fingers sent tingles up her arm when he lifted her hand and placed it in her palm. The moment it touched her skin, the stone illuminated brighter. Thorin smiled and his blue eyes met hers. “Curious little stone. Is it one of the glow stones from the mines? I didn’t think they glowed once they were broken.”

“I found it the day Kili fell down the mine shaft,” she answered evasively.

A fondness crossed his features. “Yes, I remember.” She met his glance and both realized how close they stood together in the small kitchen. Tension filled the air and she looked away.

“Thank you for dinner.”

“Yes, I mean you’re welcome,” she fumbled. She clasped her hands together and looked at the wall past his arm. “I’m glad you came.”

“As am I.” Thorin excused himself and Din watched him go once his back was turned.


	3. Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to wait until next week to post this one, but I can't help it. Haha I wanna get to the good stuff.
> 
> *Disclaimer*: The scene where Gandalf meets them in the Conclave is adapted from J.R.R. Tolkien’s Unfinished Tales of Numenor and Middle-Earth. I own no part of it. :)

_TA 2938, Ered Luin, The Blue Mountains_

_The year of the journey to the Lonely Mountain_

Something odd was going on and no one would explain it to Din. For a week now, Thorin had been in conclave with his closest kin. It was the longest he’d been in one place in years and under other circumstances this would have brought her joy. However, every day when they ended their sessions, each dwarf would emerge from the war room with worrisome expressions on their faces.

Another such meeting was currently taking place and Din was waiting outside the door for someone to come out. It felt like ages before they finally filed out one by one. She knew Balin would say nothing on the matter, nor would Gloin or Oin. Thorin certainly would not share and since Fili was still speaking with him as they passed, Din trailed after Kili. He was so distracted that he took no notice of her at his side until she spoke his name. He gave a brief start and then smiled at her.

“Why, Lady Din, what brings you to my presence?” She glared at his mock pretension. He knew the answer, of course, but would play it coy as he had the last several times she had come to him in inquiry.

“You are still resigned not to tell me? And I’ve asked you not to call me ‘Lady’.”

“Resigned not to tell you what, exactly? Do hobbits really have plots of land dedicated just to growing things? How many breasts does a female troll have? Does Dwalin sleep with that hammer of his? Please, let’s not discuss that last one. I’d really rather not think about it.”

Din whopped Kili’s arm and he cried out, gripping the spot her fist had connected with. “I’m serious, Kili.”

Kili ceased walking to look at her, his expression softening into sympathy. “I know, but I really can’t tell you anything. You know I can’t.” Din chewed the inside of her lip and averted her gaze. Clearly trying not to chuckle at her simmering pout, he rested a hand on her shoulder and stooped to meet her burning hazel eyes. “You needn’t worry.”

“You always say that.”

“Because it is always true,” he said. “We want nothing more than to keep our families happy and safe, and that includes you. You won’t be happy if you’re too busy worrying yourself sick.” Din abandoned her interrogation and smiled up at him. “I’ll see you later,” he said. He gave her arm an apologetic squeeze before continuing down the hall.

She waited until he was out of view and strode back and pushed open the brass doors of the war room. There was no way she could just forget that something big was going on and not knowing what it was was _not_ going to stop her from being concerned about the people she cared for. Were the orcs organizing again? Was their home in danger? Their population was strengthening again, but who knew what devastation another war would bring.

The brass braziers of the war room were still lit. Half a dozen stone chairs formed a semicircle around a stone table that was covered in countless maps and documents. At the head of the table was a chair similar to the others, except it had a tall back that made it look more like a throne. Each chair was inlaid with intricate dwarven embellishments and the seats were topped with plush cushions to add a little comfort.

Din smiled at one of simple red fabric. It had a twin somewhere, she knew, because she made them the day she and several other dwarf-women had decided to replace the old ratty ones several years ago. It had taken her more than an hour just to make one. Lady Dis had said it was the most attention she’d ever seen one give a piece of fabric, mistaking Din’s inability to sew at a normal pace for attention to detail. Din had not improved much since.

Reminiscence was not why she was here, so Din turned her scrutiny back to the room. If she planned on eavesdropping, she would need a place to hide. Altogether it was a fairly small room with very few places to conceal oneself. Even as tall as it was, she would certainly be discovered behind the head chair. The closet at the side of the room would suffice, though it may be difficult to hear behind its brass doors. A quick glance inside proved she would fit beside the various brooms and mops.

“Do you need something?” The abruptness of the voice startled her and she spun to face Thorin. His arms were folded over his broad chest but he was leaning his shoulder casually against the wall with his feet crossed, indicating he was not upset to find her snooping. “My apologies; I did not mean to frighten you.”

She quickly formulated an excuse and withdrew one of the brooms. “I just thought I would tidy up. This room has been getting so much use the last few days,” she said. A knowing glint in his eye told her he was not fooled, but as usual his face gave away nothing. He could be deciding the best method of execution and she would have no clue. An unlikely possibility, of course, but it didn’t make his relentless stare any less nerve-rattling.

Din shifted nervously and returned the broom to its brothers. “If you still need the room, I can clean later. Good day,” she said as she strode past him to the door.

“Pleasant day to you.”

She paused in the doorway and took a deep breath. “Whatever it is, please bring them back home; come home safely.” She didn’t turn to him when she spoke, just as he continued to face the other way as well when he answered.

“I will do everything in my power to do so. I swear it,” came the deep rumble of his reply. Din nodded, accepting his answer, and left. So, they were in fact _going_ somewhere. Now she only needed to know where.

 

* * *

 

She waited several days to eavesdrop, just in case Thorin grew suspicious and checked the cupboard. The closet was more cramped than Din had anticipated. The shaft of a broom was digging into her shoulder blade, but she couldn’t dare move for fear of being found. On the upside, she only had to struggle to hear those on the far side of the room. Peeking through the keyhole, she watched as each member of the conclave took their seats.

“Have we received word yet from Dain?” asked Balin.

A scornful scowl curled Thorin’s lips. “He refuses our plight. Says he cannot risk so many of his men for a mission he feels is folly.”

“He is not wrong,” said Gloin. “Too many of our people were lost when Smaug claimed the mountain. Why would an attack on the front gate be any different?” Din gasped, her whole body tensing. Smaug? The Mountain? _Erebor_ , she thought to herself. They were considering retaking the mountain?

“This time we would have the element of surprise,” said Fili.

Oin scoffed. “Have you ever seen an army, lad? They’re not known for subtlety. All of this is moot, anyway, if we can find no one to aid us.”

The brass doors of the room groaned open, drawing the attention of all within. The human who stepped into view looked peculiar to say the least. His grey robe nearly touched the floor and a long grey beard swayed back and forth on his chest with each step. Given his advanced age, the tall walking stick was no surprise, but the faded pointy blue hat atop his head was the most odd of all. Who was this strange man?

“Gandalf. What have you to say?” Thorin asked him. So Thorin knew him, at least. Did any of the others?

‘Gandalf’ tapped his stick with a thoughtful finger before speaking. “You are thinking as a king would, Thorin Oakenshield, but your kingdom is gone. You no longer possess the sway to bend armies to your will and it would be wise to stop acting as though you do.” The other dwarves in the room grumbled, displeased with the man’s patronizing words against the one they considered their king, but surprisingly, not even Gloin spoke up. “If you are to retake your home, it will need to be done quietly. The dragon is not your only concern; a shadow grows, far more terrible than your wyrm. They will aid each other if they can. You will need to try something simpler; Something bold to regain the loyalty of your people.”

Thorin glowered at the old man. “Do not be vague. Out with it!”

Gandalf raised a hand to tell him to quiet down. “Firstly, you will need to go yourself with only a few kinsmen or faithful followers at your side. And it will have to be done in secret or the enemy will certainly be ready for you. But you will also need something unexpected.” Din grasped fistfuls of her skirts. So an army was out of the question, but this man would send Thorin and a ‘few’ others to do what, exactly? Slay the dragon? Ludicrous!

“Unexpected? Such as?” Thorin leaned forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees. His thumbs tapped together in an impatient rhythm.

“The dragon is old, but memory and sense of smell will not fail him.”

“Naturally,” grumbled Thorin. “Do not assume that we are ignorant in the ways of dragons. Dwarves have had more dealings with them than most.”

“This is true, but as my plan is one of stealth—professional stealth—this is a factor we must consider above all. He no doubt expects you to return for what was stolen; Listens for dwarf feet, smells for the faintest air of dwarf. You will not be able to catch him unaware.”

“Then why are we discussing it?” asked Oin angrily.

“I agree. Your ‘stealth’ sounds just as foolhardy and hopeless as a large-scale attack,” said Thorin.

“It would be, but I come to you this day with an absurd solution. Smaug may be familiar with the smell of dwarf, but he has almost certainly never smelt a hobbit.”

“A simple Shirefolk? Bah!” scoffed Gloin. Din mentally mimicked the dwarf’s disbelief. What good would a hobbit be on such a dangerous quest? From what she’d heard, they spent their days hiding in their hobbit holes. “A hobbit would never get close enough to a dragon for his smell to matter!” said Gloin.

Gandalf scowled at the dwarf. “That is quite unfair, Master Gloin. I suppose you think them simple because they are generous and find them timid for their lack of weapons, but you are wrong. The hobbit I have in mind is clever and quick-handed, and there is courage within him. He is a rather unusual hobbit. Of all, I think he could be persuaded.”

Thorin rose from his chair and paced irritably. “You would have me trust the lives of my kin in the hands of a hobbit who _may_ be persuaded to find courage when we are of need of it?”

Gandalf matched Thorin’s glare, settling his free hand on his hip. “Hobbits move more quietly than any dwarf could ever hope to. I meant it when I said you would need ‘professional stealth’.”

“You mean a trained treasure seeker?” asked Balin. “I wasn’t aware there were any still around.”

“A paid thief, you mean?” Thorin considered the idea, his eyes growing distant. Din felt confused. Even if this thief _could_ sneak past the dragon, what would he need to sneak past it for? There was no weapon that could pierce the dragon’s hide, so he would not be able to slay the beast while it slept. Were they after something in particular? Several dwarves shared uneasy glances and Din scrunched her brows. What was wrong? Whatever it was, the moment passed and Thorin came back from wherever his mind had taken him. “Perhaps. If the price is not too high.”

“What does he call himself?” asked Kili, probably hoping the burglar had a tricky sort of pseudonym.

“Hobbits use their real names. His name is Bilbo Baggins.”

Kili and Fili let out a gaggle of laughter. “What a name!” cried Fili.

“Indeed, he is getting flabby of late. An adventure would do him good. It is decided, then?” Gandalf looked to Thorin who gave a begrudging nod. “Then I will take my leave. Make your preparations and we will meet at the house of Mr. Baggins. Look for the mark of the thief on his door.” The room was quiet once the old man left. Almost painfully so.

Finally, Balin stood. “I will join you on this quest,” said he. “What of the rest of you lads?” Each dwarf rose from their chairs.

“Aye!” they declared. Din’s breath caught in her throat, looking out at faces she had seen most of her life. The thought that some or all of them may not return from this journey churned her stomach. Even young Fili and Kili were going, lads she had known since they were just babes. Looking at them now, they looked confident about their decision, but at closer glance, was it her imagination or were Kili’s hands shaking just a little? And Fili usually stood a little straighter, didn’t he?

Oin turned to Balin. “And what of Dwalin?”

“He is currently on the road, but I will get a message to him. We could ask Dori to accompany us as well. Perhaps even Nori?” inquired Balin. Din was unfamiliar with these two.

Gloin chuckled. “We’re already inviting a hobbit thief, so why not an estranged dwarf thief as well?”

“Nine that makes, so far,” said Thorin.

“Ten. You’re forgetting the hobbit,” argued Balin. Thorin paid no mind to the comment. “I’m sure we could find a few others.” A few other names were casually tossed around and then they finally ended their conference. Din waited until the last dwarf filed from the room before emerging from her shelter. Her legs trembled as if she had just run around the mountain and she sat with her back to the closet, trying to relax.

 

* * *

 

Dinner was smaller that night than it had been in a while. Fili and Kili were dining with their mother and Thorin, as Din suspected they might. Most unexpected, however, was the absence of Bombur. He _never_ missed a meal. Din waited throughout the meal, expecting him to show up late at any moment, but by the time they started to clean up, he had yet to arrive. So, after dinner, she ventured to Bofur’s quarters.

“Uncle Bofur?” Din knocked on the frame of his open bedroom door. A pack was open on his bed and he was busy stuffing an assortment of things into it that one might bring when traveling. The small room was messier than usual as if he had been searching for things.

“Yes darlin’?” Bofur didn’t turn to look at her as he stuffed a spare shirt into the pack.

“Are you going somewhere? And where is Uncle Bombur?”

“Bifur, Bombur and I have been asked to accompany several other fellows to one of the other kingdoms. Bombur took a day’s head start to meet us outside Sarn Ford.” he said vaguely. Din’s breath caught. _No_. Not them, too. “I don’t know how long we will be gone, so look after Thes for us.”

“What if I asked you not to go?” Din asked quietly. A warm smile lit his features when he turned to her, but she knew it was no use. He would go and she would be forced to wait in their mountain, hoping they would someday return. She stepped forward to embrace him and he chuckled into her hair, folding his arms around her shoulders.

“Everything will work out, you’ll see.” A sickening feeling in her gut told her otherwise. No, she couldn’t just wait.


	4. Chapter Four

Somehow, Din’s fake beard made her entire face itch. It was made by sewing the hair from a horse’s mane onto a sheet of linen and tied at the back of the head. It had been many years since she’d had reason to wear it. Aside from leaving the mountain—which she had never done—dwarf-women only needed to wear them if a foreign visitor came to the mountain. Since the loss of Erebor, visitors had only come a handful of times. This ‘Gandalf’ character had been the first outsider she had seen in their halls for a good seventy-five years and that had seemed unplanned. Out on the road, even though the route she was on was only on dwarven maps, she couldn’t risk being seen by passersby.

It was far stuffier in the fur boots and hefty coats she had disguised herself in, but the change in her wardrobe she _could_ handle was the lack of a corset. That alone made riding her pony, Shayli, for such an extended time a much simpler task. By this point, Fili and Kili were likely a good hour ahead of her on their way to Sarn Ford. Since they were the youngest of the troop, they could travel quicker, so they were able to leave last. She kept at a fast pace so she would be sure to catch up since she couldn’t be sure how fast they were going.

Navigating her map was much more difficult than she had anticipated as the hours went by, especially once it lead her into a forest and she had a harder time keeping track of the sun. She was never certain if the curve in the trail before her was the same as the one on the map and therefore wasn’t sure how far she had truly gone. When night fell, she began to fear that she would never find them. Her chest became a tight ball of panic, making it difficult to breathe, and her stomach ached with hunger. Her only options were to keep going in hopes of finding them or to go back.

She had nearly made up her mind to turn around and return home in shame and defeat when a dot of orange caught her attention in the black forest. Her heart leapt in her chest. Could it be them? To avoid making too much noise, Din dismounted and secured Shayli’s reigns to a tree. She would need to check quietly just in case it _wasn’t_ the lads.

Twigs and leaves were louder when stepped on than Din had always imagined. Or perhaps her footsteps only sounded loud when compared to the breeze gently brushing it’s fluid fingers through the hair of the trees. Against her better judgement, she pulled her crystal from her pocket to let its light guide her feet and used her hand to direct the lights flow as best she could so as not to give away her position.

Once she reached the campsite, she slowed and carefully peeked around a cluster of scrawny white-barked trees. Two bedrolls were laid out by a little fire and two small skewered carcasses were propped above it and had been left to roast. Din scrunched her brows, confuddled. This looked to be the right place, but where were the inhabitants of this quaint little camp?

The faint sound of whistling on the breeze accompanied the rustling of a bush as a dark haired dwarf strode into the clearing and crouched to rotate the meat. Even from the back she recognized Kili immediately and stood but cold steel against her neck stopped her from entering the clearing. This was a trap, Kili the diversion. The moment she stopped, Kili spun and lifted his bow, arrow ready to fly.

“Don’t even think about it, unless you want your head cleaved from your body.” Fili’s words snaked through her hair. So, they thought she was here to rob them.

“Fili, it’s me,” she said. Fili gasped and lowered his sword. Kili had just lowered his bow when Fili’s hand gripped her arm and spun her forcefully to face him. Before she could stop him he reached up and ripped the fake beard from her face. The cloth ripped, likely becoming useless. “You’re lucky I brought a spare,” she complained.

Fili’s blue eyes glared down at her and she stepped back. “ _You’re_ lucky I didn’t just gut you and be done with it. What the blazes are you thinking?” he asked. Kili jogged around the trees to meet them, his face just as stern. She refused to back down.

“You invited practically all the family I have on this absurd quest of yours. I had to come to make sure they come home,” she argued. Fili glared at Kili and Kili threw his hands up innocently.

“I told her nothing!”

“It’s true, he wouldn’t say a word. No one would,” Din corroborated grouchily.

“Then how did you come to know about our quest?”

Din shrugged. “I eavesdropped, of course.” Fili raked a thickly gloved hand through his blond hair.

“What do we do?” asked Kili. “Take her back?”

“ _No,_ ” Din argued forcefully, glaring at the dwarf.

“She’s right,” said Fili. Din perked up. Was he giving in that easily? “Taking her back would lose us two days and we cannot spare them, lest the company leave without us. We will bring her with us to this burglar’s house and then Thorin will decide how to return her home.” Din opened her mouth to protest but Fili held up a hand to stop her. She decided to bite her tongue and spun on her heel.

“Where are you going?” asked Kili. Fili moved to follow her and she shoved him back.

“I’m going to collect Shayli. I don’t need your help to do it, so _don’t_ follow me,” she spat. She thought they might trail after her anyway, but fortunately they decided that keeping an eye on her was good enough.

Their little troop was tense the next morning as they ate a quick breakfast and started to packed up. Unaccustomed to sleeping amongst wildlife and on the hard ground, Din had slept poorly and her mind begged her to go back to sleep. But she would not show weakness while Kili and Fili watched her so carefully. She stumbled when she tried to hoist her heavy pack into place on Shayli’s rump and pair of hands grabbed hold of the pack to stabilize her. She glared at Kili but he offered her a smile instead.

“I can manage on my own,” she grumbled.

“Why do you think it is so terrible to accept help?” he asked. She started fastening the straps down more vigorously than she needed to and Kili lazily leaned against Shayli.

“The only reason you do these things for me is because you think I _can’t_.”

Bemusement crossed his face. “You’re wrong. You proved a long time ago that you are capable _and_ willing to do things yourself when you leapt after a small boy to prevent him from falling to his death down a mineshaft.” Din stopped and met his dark eyes. Affection and a deep found trust reflected back to her. A wave of emotion quelled the fire in her. “We only want to help you because we care.” He smiled again and briefly squeezed her shoulder and then turned to finish packing up.

The day’s travel brought no big surprises, but Din found herself at awe with her surroundings. Now that her nose wasn’t buried in a map all day, she was truly able to grasp what was around her. She had never felt she had missed out on anything spending her life in a mountain. Dirt was just dirt, trees were just trees. But now she gaped up at the looming trees in awe. They were much taller up close.

 _And the smells._ Every now and then she would cringe at a whiff of the little treats the horses would leave behind, but otherwise her nose filled with the smell of grass and pine and flowers that melded into a scent she could only describe as _green_. It surprised her how much of it there was. Green. From their mountain the trees had appeared a more bluish color but up close their vivid greenness was stunning. She did not believe she could ever tire of it.

Their road through the woodland shortened their journey and they found themselves in the velvet green hills of the Shire the next day. Din kept her spare beard fastened to her face the entire way and by this point the relentless itching was about to drive her insane. Her legs were also stiff and her rump sore from riding Shayli for so long.

Once in the Shire, they came to the problem of finding the Burglar’s house. The Shirefolk were a skittish bunch, to be certain. As the dwarves rode past, most of these hobbits would scurry for their hobbit holes and peer out at them from their windows. They were short, even to a dwarf, and what she found most curious is that none of them were wearing shoes. With all their soft lush grass, though, she did not imagine they would need them. Night was falling when they finally reached Hobbiton and they no longer bothered to ask for directions, instead looking for the mark of the thief on any of the round doors. Finally, they found it glowing at the bottom of a green door. The two ponies tied to fence posts outside were also an indication that this was the correct house. They tied their horses next to the others and started up the walkway but Fili paused by the door.

“Try not to say too much for now, Din,” he said. “I know it’s unfair, but until the company decides how to move forward, we cannot risk this burglar learning you are a woman.” Din nodded and he pulled on the doorbell chain. She was nervous now, and felt her hands sweating through her gloves.

The small man who answered was the most unassuming creature she could have pictured. By no means did he look like a professional thief with his little vest and pocket handkerchief. Like the other hobbits, his furry feet were bare and chestnut curls bounced on his head as he stumbled back in surprise at the sight of three more dwarves on his stoop.

“Fili, Kili, and um, Dinli,” Fili introduced them. Din grinned. He hadn’t sprained anything coming up with that.

“At your service,” said Kili. He and Fili suddenly stooped into a low bow and Din fumbled to follow suit. “You must be Master Baggins.”

The hobbit’s eyes, which had been narrow and suspicious, bugged and he moved to close the door. “No, no, you’ve come to the wrong house.”

“What?” Kili stopped the door from shutting, his eyes now as bugged as the hobbit’s. “You mean it’s been cancelled?”

Incredulity crossed the Hobbit’s face. “What do you mean ‘cancelled’? Nothing’s been cancelled.”

“That’s a relief,” exclaimed Fili. They barged past the hobbit and there was not much the little fellow could do but let them. Din strutted past him and gave what she hoped sounded like a masculine grunt of greeting. While Fili was busy handing off his weapons and Kili complimented the place, Din uncertainly strolled down the hall. Somehow, they had managed to arrive before most of the company.

The round walls were white with dark furnished wood trimmings and a large variety of knick-knacks were strewn about on shelves. When she’d heard they would be visiting a hobbit hole, she had not imagined something so clean and spacious. Dwalin strode through a round doorway to greet them. It had been ages since she’d last seen him up close and the sheer size of him shocked her as it did every time. It probably wasn’t so, but he appeared to have less hair atop his head, also.

“Pardon, laddie,” he said gruffly pushing past her. “Fili, Kili, come help us.”

“Who is this young lad?” Din turned to the speaker to find Balin in the doorway. Din froze, unsure of what to say.

“This is Dinli,” Kili said, patting her roughly on the back.

“Any relation to Gloin or his son, Gimli?” asked Dwalin.

“No relation. And he can’t talk, I’m afraid. He took a blow to the head from a horse some years back. Just sort of grunts at us now,” said Fili. He appeared on her other side and set a hand on her shoulder. She sent him a grateful look for inventing a reason for her not to talk. “What did you need help with?”

They got to work unloading the hobbit’s pantry and as they arrived, the other dwarves helped, also. Din’s hands started to shake a little when her uncles arrived with Bifur but they luckily did not recognize her with her beard on. They also seemed to find her grunts of communication very amusing. Even the old man, Gandalf, arrived and seemed to take stock of what dwarves were present. Din’s thinking mirrored his. Where was Thorin?

Much laughter ensued throughout dinner. They had a drinking contest, where Gloin surprisingly beat out Bombur, and everyone talked so loudly that she wondered how any could really understand what was being said. When they were finished eating, the dwarves treated an irate Bilbo to a song while they cleaned up. It looked as if the poor fellow would have a heart attack every time a plate was tossed from one dwarf to another.

Din was desperate to join in, but knew that if she sang they would know she was not supposed to be there. Instead, she helped pass plates around and drummed her hands on the table. When a knock came at the door, the singing stopped.

“That’ll be him,” said Gandalf who had until this point remained fairly uninvolved. Little Bilbo had surrendered his fight to remove the unwanted company from his home and went to answer the door. He trailed back into the room a few moments later behind Thorin. His eyes roved over each of his loyal comrades until the blue spheres landed on her in confusion.

“Oh, this is erm . . .” After the ale he had consumed, Fili had to think to remember what name he had come up with for her. “Dinli.”

Thorin’s eyes darkened as recognition crossed his features. “Is that so?” Din sunk in her chair a little. Apparently the creative name was not fooling him.


	5. Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: The song I use in this chapter is called “Seven Drunken Nights”. (The group Celtic Thunder have particularly amusing renditions of it that in particular inspired my use of it.) The last two verses of the original song are inappropriate, so I have omitted them. :)

“ _Dinli_ , l need to speak with you outside before we begin,” said Thorin sternly. Fili, Kili, and Din exchanged uneasy glances and she rose from the table and made the mistake of glancing over at her uncles. The moment her eyes met with both of them, they seemed to make the connection between her name and what they could see of her face.

“Din . . .” muttered Bofur as a biscuit fell from Bombur’s hand.

“ _What?_ ” growled Bifur. “What the _hell_ were you lads thinkin’?” Heat rose to Din’s face.

“It was _my_ decision, not theirs,” Din defended.

“That’s enough.” Thorin’s deep voice, quieter than theirs, held the weight of a leader and their argument stopped before it began. He placed a hand on Din’s shoulder to lead her from the room just as Bofur rose from his seat and Bombur moved to follow. “Everyone else stay.” Bilbo was slumped in defeat in a chair in the corner, realizing it would be a while yet before his home was free of dwarves. Luckily, he seemed to be wallowing in self-pity too much to have heard her speak. Din was grateful for the fresh air outside and pulled her beard off so her face could breathe.

“Are your things packed?” Thorin asked.

She spun to face him. The light of the moon softened his features and brought out the blue of his eyes. To avoid their confident and compelling sway, she instead stared at the bridge of his nose. “What? No, I’m not leaving.”

“You know I cannot let you come. Fili and Kili can ride back with you while the company rests in Bree.”

Din scoffed. “Eleven dwarves camped out in a human village for nearly a week, unwilling to discuss their business? That won’t draw attention to your ‘stealthy’ endeavor,” she said borrowing what was apparently Gandalf’s favorite word. “And you probably can’t afford to lose any of them by sending them back with me permanently.”

“No! We will make it work. I don’t know what possessed you to to do something so outrageous, but you are _going home_.”

Din’s voice rose involuntarily. “What did you expect me to do? You invited my uncles, some of the _only family_ I have left! I can cook, I can clean clothes, whatever it takes, but please, _don’t_ just send me back there where I can do nothing. I cannot wait within the walls of our mountain and simply hope they will come back to me!” Absently, she touched the crystal in her pocket; she had told no one of it’s . . . _unique_ properties, not even Kili or Fili. But on a journey such as this she believed it could be of more use than just a lucky token. “Please, I would walk through fire to see them home.”

His features softened with an emotion she could not read. But she knew that, above all other qualities, loyalty was most dear to him. He opened his mouth to speak when the door behind him swung wide and Gandalf stepped through.

“It is most rude, Master Thorin, to leave your assembled company to wait for you for so long,” he said. With a small ‘eep!’ Din scooted over so Thorin blocked Gandalf’s view of her as she started to tie her beard back on. A chuckle rumbled from Gandalf’s belly. “You do not need that Miss Dwarf. I have known your kind a long time and Master Baggins would not dare reveal your secret to anyone with thirteen dwarves in his company.”

A low growl emanated from Thorin’s throat and he turned his head without actually looking at Gandalf. “And it is most rude, Master Wizard, to interrupt a private conversation.” Din felt her eyes bug. A wizard? This old man was a _wizard_? Her mouth fell agape unintentionally and the corners of Thorin’s mouth quirked upward. “And the hobbit may keep his mouth shut now, but what about in the morning after we are gone?”

“You have only just arrived. He may surprise you yet. But if it concerns you, I do not believe he would be brave enough to share your secret while so many dwarves know where he lives. Now, what have you decided to do about this situation?” Gandalf asked glancing to Din.

Thorin held Din’s gaze with an intensity that she was sure made her blush. Thank goodness the beard hid it. “Nothing. She is coming with us.”

 

* * *

 

True to her word, Din woke early the next morning and started preparing more food from Bilbo’s second smaller pantry. It wasn’t as large a meal as the dinner they had splurged on the previous night, but they managed to empty the larder of nearly everything by the time they finished breakfast.

After the initial shock Bifur seemed to accept Thorin’s decision. Fili and Kili had protested at first, but had surrendered when they realized Thorin’s decision was the final word on the matter. Her most pressing concern at the moment was her uncles. Sweet old Bombur was more or less acting like himself, but she could tell it bothered him and Bofur would hardly even look at her. Their loyalty to Thorin was the only thing keeping them from fighting him on it.

She had not taken Gandalf’s advice about leaving her beard off and was glad she had not. The hobbit seemed adamant in his resolve not to join them and now she had not jeopardize the secrecy of dwarven women. Apparently he’d completely missed her outburst at the table, probably too busy wallowing in self pity. He had also not been a professional burglar as Gandalf had lead them to believe, but for some reason Thorin kept them moving at a slow pace on Gandalf’s behest, as if the hobbit would show up.

She tried to stay out of the way as much as possible once they departed and stayed at the back with Gandalf and Dori’s younger brother Ori. She hadn’t heard Ori mentioned at the conclave, but as any of them he seemed determined to prove himself. They had journeyed a fair distance, away from Shirefolk, when Din heard someone crying out after them from behind. She looked over her shoulder and spotted a small figure disappearing down the slope of a hill and appearing on the next one, steadily growing closer. She sputtered a chortle of surprise.

“Wait,” she called ahead to the company. They halted in a huddle one by one and waited until Bilbo came scurrying up the hill through the trees. Gandalf looked positively giddy to see the hobbit and she mused about how different he was than how she had always pictured a wizard would be. Above all, she had not pictured someone so sociable.

Bilbo sprinted to Balin’s horse and brandished the contract the old dwarf had left for him. “I signed it!” declared he as if this were the bravest feat he had yet accomplished. As beautiful as it was, the Shire seemed an uneventful place so this was probably true. Balin looked over the document with his eyeglass and then folded it up.

“Everything seems to be in order,” he said.

“Get him a pony,” Thorin commanded. Despite Bilbo’s protests, Dwalin and Gloin rode on either side of him and lifted him onto the spare pony they had apparently brought for him in case he decided to come. He rode slowly as if asking his pony to move faster would enrage it and soon he was back with Gandalf and Din. The pony picked up pace on it’s own so it wouldn’t fall behind. Din chuckled at his rigid demeanor.

“If you don’t relax you’ll be terribly sore by the end of the day. Or, more sore than you’ll already be,” she said. He looked over at her so fast she worried he might snap his own neck. Only then did it occur to her that she was no longer wearing her beard. She felt her entire face redden and she looked away.

“You’re a . . .”

She rolled her eyes. “Yes, I’m a girl.”

“But wait, all the dwarves last night had beards. I _did_ notice that much.” Din pulled her fake beard from her pouch and Bilbo’s brows furrowed. “Why on earth would you wear that?”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you don’t exactly see dwarven women traipsing about. We have designed it that way on purpose. We only ever leave our mountain halls at great need.”

Bilbo was about to inquire as to why they would lock their women away but Gandalf cut him off. “It is cultural, Bilbo. They do so to protect their women from the atrocities of men in the human world.”

“Oh.” Bilbo contemplated on this a while. Their journey was slowed the second half of the day when a relentless rainfall poured down on them. It finally slowed when night fell and they began looking for a place to set up an encampment for the night. While the rest of the company unpacked, Din got started preparing a stew for them, eager to prove that she would not be dead weight. Most of them accepted the meal gratefully, save for Bofur. He had been grumbling all day and his mood had not improved. She chewed her lip and debated ways to mend the bridge between them. She would not be able to get him to speak to her until his mood had lightened, and nothing lightened his mood better than his love of song. Once every dwarf had been served she found her belongings and untied a small lute from her pack.

Din strummed the beginning of Bofur’s favorite song, “Seven Drunken Nights”. He’d learned it from a drunk in a human pub years ago and had proceeded to teach it to everyone he knew. Now, however, he tried to ignore it. She kept strumming until, finally, Fili stood to get the song going. She smiled gratefully at him and he placed an arm around her shoulders.

“As I went home on a Monday night,” he sang. The whole party was listening now, grins of recognition dawning on some of their faces. “As drunk as drunk could be, I saw a horse outside the door where my old horse should be.”

“Uh oh,” interrupted Kili. Nori and Gloin whinnied like horses, drawing laughter from the others.

Fili ignored them and continued. “Well, I called me wife and I said to her: Will you kindly tell to me; Who owns that horse outside the door where my old horse should be?”

The beat sped up and the rest of the dwarves, except Balin, Thorin and a determinedly grumpy Bofur joined in for the chorus. Several even started to dance and the others clapped along with the beat.

“Ah, you're drunk,

you're drunk you silly old fool,

still you can not see!

That's a lovely sow that me mother sent to me.

Well, it's many a day I've travelled a hundred miles or more,

but a saddle on a sow sure I never saw before.”

Bifur stood as the chorus ended and patted his cousin on the shoulder. Bofur grumbled, but his resolve was beginning to wane. “And as I went home on a Tuesday night,” sang Bifur, “As drunk as drunk could be, I saw a coat behind the door where my old coat should be.”

Dori, Ori, and Oin made exaggerated shivering sounds and Gloin removed his coat and slyly dropped it by Kili as if framing him as the alleged adulterer. Din laughed, finding it difficult to keep strumming and Bifur continued. “Well, I called me wife and I said to her: Will you kindly tell to me; Who owns that coat behind the door where my old coat should be.”

Finally, Bofur surrendered and joined in on the chorus.

“Ah, you're drunk,

you're drunk you silly old fool,

still you can not see!

That's a woollen blanket that me mother sent to me.

Well, it's many a day I've travelled a hundred miles or more,

but buttons in a blanket sure I never saw before.”

Oin wobbled forward now as if drunkenness was batting his coordination around and started the next verse. “And as I went home on a Wednesday night as drunk as drunk could be, I saw a pipe up on the chair where my old pipe should be.”

Gloin swung an arm around Oin’s shoulders and Oin made a show of leaning on his brother for support. “Well, I called his wife and I said to her: Will you kindly tell to him; Who owns that pipe upon the chair where his old pipe should be.”

“Ah, you're drunk,

you're drunk you silly old fool,

still you can not see!

That's a lovely tin whistle that me mother sent to me.

Well, it's many a day I've travelled a hundred miles or more,

but tobacco in a tin whistle sure I never saw before.”

Bofur looked over at her with a wide smile and stumbled into Dori and started to sing. “And as I went home on a . . . uh . . .” He started counting on his fingers, pretending he was so drunk that he couldn’t remember what day it was.

“Thursday,” whispered Kili.

Bofur pointed at him gratefully and the group roared with laughter. “Thursday night as drunk as drunk could be, I saw two boots beneath the bed where my old boots should be.” Bofur stared down at his boots and then looked at Dori’s but Dori scooted away to hide them as if he might recognize them if he looked too closely. A confused look crossed Bofur’s face. “Well, I called me wife and I said to her: Will you kindly tell to me; Who owns them boots beneath the bed where my old boots should be.”

“Ah, you're drunk,

you're drunk you silly old fool,

still you can not see!

They're two lovely Geranium pots me mother sent to me.

Well, it's many a day I've travelled a hundred miles or more,

but laces in Geranium pots I never saw before.”

To Din’s surprise, Dwalin was the next to sing. “And as I went home on Friday night as drunk as drunk could be,

I saw a head upon the bed where my old head should be.

Well, I called me wife and I said to her: Will you kindly tell to me;

Who owns that head upon the bed where my bald head should be.” As he sang this last line, he pointed to the bald top of his head and even Thorin tilted his head back in laughter. Din was struggling to play her lute properly because her side was beginning to cramp from so much laughing.

“Ah, you're drunk,

you're drunk you silly old fool,

still you can not see!

That's a baby boy that me mother sent to me.

Well, it's many a day I've travelled a hundred miles or more,

but a baby boy with his whiskers on sure I never saw befoooooore.”

The whole bundle of them fell into discordant jovial mirth as the song ended, laughing and conversing. Thorin offered a small smile when Din glanced at him and she returned it. He had not joined in, of course, but at least he did not seem annoyed as he sometimes did when they burst into song. Warm glee swelled in her chest at having brought them all such joy. If nothing else, perhaps she could at least keep their spirits up and their bellies mostly full on their journey.


	6. Six

It was already far later than it should have been. They had gotten lost some hours ago and had finally given up on finding the trail until morning. The pot was set up above a hurried campfire while the rest of the company tried to hurriedly set up another camp. Din was busy skinning potatoes when Bilbo perched himself on the log beside her without her notice.

“I’ve been thinking,” he said. She gasped in surprise at the abruptness of his voice and her potato slipped from her grip. She fumbled to grasp it before it landed in the dirt and sent him an exasperated look. “Sorry.” He grinned sheepishly and despite herself, she smiled.

“What have you been thinking, Master Hobbit?”

“You have that beard as a disguise—would you like help with those?” He pointed to the skinned potatoes piled on a sack on the ground and she held up her index finger to tell him to wait until she finished the last one. He continued. “Well, you’re quite short compared to the other dwarves. I don’t mean to be rude, but by that look on your face I’m guessing you’re taking it that way. All I was thinking is, what if you tell other people you are a hobbit? That way you wouldn’t have to wear the beard.”

A laugh behind them heated the annoyance in her chest. A hand landed roughly on her head and Din swatted it away, glaring up at Kili. “Hear that? You’d make a convincing hobbit.”

“I-I didn’t mean it like that, I just-I only wanted to—” stammered Bilbo.

Din waved off Bilbo’s apologies and turned to Kili. “Aren’t you supposed to be watching the ponies with your brother?” she growled. Her displeasure only seemed to amuse him but he apparently wasn’t brave enough to test her further.

“When will the food be ready?” he asked.

Din stood, the last of her potatoes skin-free. She used her apron as a bowl to carry them over to the pot over the fire. “Don’t rush me. It will be ready when it’s ready.” Kili and Bilbo both followed. Bilbo brandished a small knife and started slicing the potatoes into the pot since she had no spare hands to do so. He did so surprisingly quickly, actually, though she supposed hobbits prepared food all day.

“But—” Kili started to argue that he was hungry when the clearing of someone’s throat interrupted him. Thorin stood a distance away, his arms crossed over his chest.

“Return to your post, Kili,” he said.

Seriousness returned to Kili’s features and he nodded. “Yes, Uncle.” As he stepped away, Bilbo lifted the last potato and Din let her apron fall. While he was distracted, Din leveled her hand with the top of her head and moved it toward him. With him stooped to slice the potato, however, she could not get an accurate measurement comparison.

“Bilbo,” said Thorin as he stepped up to the pot. Bilbo straightened and Din could have sworn the corners of Thorin’s mouth turned up. Was he just trying to get Bilbo’s attention so she could compare their heights? “How fares that knife? Does it need sharpened?”

“Oh no, it works perfectly fine, thank you.” Bilbo grinned, unaware of the collusion going on.

As they spoke, Din tried again. Her spirits sank. If she was taller than the hobbit, the difference was imperceptible. She really was short. Deflated, she dropped her hand and started adding salted meats to the stew. Thorin gave her arm a reassuring squeeze as he passed to help with the camp and Din felt her face flush. She met Bilbo’s eye and he averted his gaze as if he had seen nothing. After her spices were added they let the food cook.

Camp was set up by the time it was done. The dwarves and Bilbo lined up with bowls and she spooned a serving into each. They weren’t aware of where Gandalf had gone off to after he’d had a disagreement with Thorin, but she was careful to leave enough for when he returned. Bofur was not upset with her anymore, which she was grateful for. He did mussy up her hair, though, after she gave him his fill. 

“Thank you fo’ that,” she said sarcastically, her accent reaching a potent peak as it did when she was angry or cheeky.

“No problem, dearie.” He kissed the side of her head as a father would and joined his brother who was seated on a log. Bilbo was last.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” he said.

“Don’t worry, it isn’t your fault I’m small. It wasn’t a bad idea, either. I’ll think on it. What about my feet, though?”

“Your feet?” Bilbo frowned.

“Well, my feet aren’t hairy like yours, so I can’t just take my shoes off when we come across a stranger. They’re also pretty tiny.”

Bilbo crossed an arm across his chest and tapped his chin with his finger. “We could tell them you suffer from Brittle Feets, so you have to wear shoes.”

“Brittle Feets? Is that actually a thing?”

Bilbo grinned. “No, but they don’t have to know that, do they? As for the size, I doubt many people will have heard enough about hobbits to know what size your feet should be.”

Din chuckled and handed him a bowl of stew. When he stepped forward to grab it, however, he tripped on a spoke of the stand that was holding the pot and it started to tumble over. On instinct, she shot forward and grabbed the brim of the pot. It was hot, she knew, but it did not burn her as she knew it wouldn’t. She righted it and then withdrew her hand, pursing her lips in disbelief at her own stupidity. She should have just let it fall. She and Gandalf and the lads could have had bread or something else for dinner.

Panic tightened her chest and she whipped her head around to make sure no one else had seen. No one was looking their way. Bilbo opened his mouth to speak but only a few sputters of noise came out. She took advantage of his dumbstruck speechlessness and quickly filled two bowls with stew and shoved them into his hands.

“Take these to Fili and Kili, would you?” Before he could argue she gave him a light push in the right direction. She scolded herself for being so stupid and touched the bump in her pocket where her gem hid. It was the stone that had protected her from the heat of the pot. She’d learned it could do more than just light her way years ago when her mother had started teaching her to cook. She’d been foolish enough to wonder how hot the pot really was. To her confusion, it hadn’t burned when she touched it but that didn’t stop Thes from shrieking in panic. When she’d seen that Din’s hand was unharmed, however, she had warned Din not to tell anyone. Thes would not speak of it after that. 

Finally, Din poured some for herself and sat on a log between Bombur and Ori, who both smiled in greeting. The group was quieter this evening. Silent minutes passed until all but she had finished eating. Din eyed each of them, wondering what kind of conversation to start. 

Fili and Kili burst through the trees, wide eyed, looking like they would certainly start one themselves. “Trolls! Three of them.” cried Fili. Din tensed. 

“What?” said Dwalin. “What are trolls doing out in the open?”

“They’ve got some of the ponies,” said Kili.

“We sent the hobbit in to distract them.”

“What’s the little bugger supposed to do about it?” Oin gruffed. Everyone was already arming themselves. 

“Let’s go. And be quiet about it,” said Thorin. He began leading them into the woods.

Din stood and withdrew her iron hatchet from her belongings but a hand fell on her shoulder. “Where do you think you’re going?” asked Bifur.

“He’s right. Wait here.” Bombur patted her other shoulder and they passed to join the others on their expedition through the trees. Din’s shoulders slumped and she plopped back onto the log, resigned to wait. With each passing moment, her heart raced faster and faster until she thought it might implode. Horrible silence tormented her imagination until the distant sound of fighting drifted back to her. She grasped the leather wrapping around the iron handle of her axe, gazing into the darkness they had disappeared into. Finally, the fighting stopped. She continued to wait to see if it would pick up again or better yet if they would return. More and more time passed. When she couldn’t bare it any longer, she barged into the woods.

The light from her gem provided the light she needed to find her way. She found no source of life anywhere, though.  Wherever the trolls had taken their ponies, it was a fair distance away.  When she finally heard voices, her heart leapt, but the moment was short lived. The voices she heard were not those of her comrades. They were the voices of something big.

Din slowed her step and she concealed the light of her gem. The orange glow of a campfire in the distance gave her something to aim for. She moved as quietly as she could as she stepped up to the thrush that contained the orange glow of the flames and her breathing stopped at the sight before her.

Three enormous humanoid creatures clammered around the clearing. Half of her party were all trapped in sacks and the other half had been tied to a pole that two trolls were rotating over a fire. Her blood froze. There was no way she could let them get eaten.

Din would need higher ground to gain any kind of advantage here. She peered at the trees around her until she spotted one with branches close enough together to climb. She slid her axe into her belt and started scaling. Each groan the branches gave stopped her heart for the fear of being discovered and by the time she was high enough to look down at the trolls she was so tense and nervous that she had sweated through her clothing.

She withdrew her axe and watched, waiting for the right moment to act. She only hoped she would be able to force her legs to move when the time came. Just then, she realized that Bilbo was looking at her. He looked back down to avoid giving her position away and fumbled to his feet as easily as one could while trapped in a sack.

“Wait, stop!” he cried. “You can’t cook them like that. You’ll make yourselves sick, you will.” The trolls stopped and stared at the hobbit.

“What do you mean?” asked the one she had heard the other trolls refer to as Bert.

“Fortunately, I know the secret to cooking dwarf,” said Bilbo. The dwarves cried out in outrage at his betrayal.

“Secret? What secret?” asked the troll named Tom.

Bilbo clearly hadn’t thought this far ahead. He delayed to give himself time by hopping a few paces to his right. “The secret is to . . . to skin them first!” Din gaped in horror. What if the trolls actually  _ did _ start skinning them? Had he thought of that?

“That’s rubbish.” William, the last troll, strolled over to the pile of Dwarves and scooped one up. She clenched her teeth to stop herself from crying out for Bombur. A burning need to protect her uncle spread like fire within her and, to her surprise, the axe in her hand and the stone in her pocket both started to feel hot.  _ Hot _ . She could feel it. When she looked at her axe she realized it was emitting a faint glow, similar to the one her stone gave. Was she  _ using _ the stone’s magic? She had never done that before. She returned her attention to William, who was directly below her now with his back to her. “I’ve eaten plenty with their skins on,” he said. 

Without giving herself time to reconsider, Din lept from the tree. She fell toward the troll quickly and swung her burning axe as hard as she could. It shuttered in her grip as it cleaved into the troll’s skull. The troll stumbled forward with a cry of pain and Din propped her feet on his meaty shoulder blades to gain the leverage to rip it back out. She swung again and it dug handle-deep into the troll’s skull once more. It was securely lodged this time. Luckily, after staggering for a few moments, the troll fell forward instead of backward. She would have been crushed otherwise! She was thrown from him as his body thundered against the ground. She threw her arms out to stop herself from rolling further.

In the corner of her eye she saw that Bilbo had fallen to the ground in his desperation not to be crushed himself. After a moment of stunned silence, the other two trolls wailed in rage. The ground rumbled as they stomped toward her. Din was unarmed now. She scuttled back until her back met a tree. What could she do? Think.  _ Think! _

Light. Trolls hid in caves all day so they would be sensitive to light. She fumbled to get the stone from her pocket as Tom reached for her and she thrust it into his face. It gave a sort of burp of light, but it was enough.

“Ahh!” he screamed as he covered his eyes. He backpedalled into Bert and they fell to the ground. Din’s breathing was shallow and her entire body trembled.

“Watch where you’re going, idiot!” Bert shouted.

“I . . . I can’t see!” Tom moaned. They started to bicker as they rose to their feet.

A booming voice drew all of their attentions to the east. “Dawn take you all!” Gandalf was standing on a boulder and he brought the end of his staff down onto its surface. It cracked apart and half of it fell away to reveal the beginning of a sunrise. The trolls screamed but were unable to escape their fate. Their skin began to turn to stone until they were no more than statues.


	7. Seven

Din was only vaguely aware of the voices around her and the many bodies who were gathered ‘round in awe. She was still sitting on the ground and stared at the dirt, her mind vividly running through the horrific details of how she could have gotten herself killed just now. How easy it would have been for Tom or Bert to squeeze the life from her if the stone hadn’t dazed Tom. And if her axe hadn’t been enough to kill William he might have eaten her first. Would it have been over quickly or would she have felt every bite? What if she hadn’t been fast enough and Bombur had been eaten instead?

Bombur. Her mind snapped back on. ”Uncle Bombur,” She muttered. She glanced up at the dwarves around her searching for him. “Where’s Uncle Bombur?” Everyone gestured to him and Fili and Kili held her arms to help her stand. The dwarves parted to form a sort of path for her to reach him. He too was staring at the dead troll with a haunted look on his face until he spotted her coming his way.

With arms outstretched, he met her hug with a quivering chuckle. Emotion tightened her throat but was lightened when Bofur and Bifur joined the embrace. They found themselves laughing together, a nervous laughter that was more about being happy they were all alive than actually finding the situation amusing. Bombur wiped the dew from her eyes when they parted.

Fili and Kili waited restlessly for the family moment to end and then pulled her into a hug one at a time. Fili gripped her shoulders, his eyes wide with astonishment. “I can’t believe you did that. You killed a troll!”

“What was that?” Kili asked at her side.

“That,” said a gruff voice behind them. Thorin wrenched her hatchet from the troll’s stone head and threw it to the ground. “Is an excellent question. What were you thinking? You could have gotten yourself killed!”

Din crossed her arms stubbornly and met his glare. “Are you serious? I was thinking that people I loved were about to be eaten if I didn’t act. Would you have prefered I let the monsters devour you?”

Thorin matched her stance. “The wizard would have arrived even if you had not intervened.”

“None of us knew that, Thorin. It was brave, what she did,” said Bilbo. Din glanced at the hobbit and gave a subtle grateful grin. Bilbo smiled. Thorin’s jaw tensed and Bilbo’s expression turned timid under his withering stare.

Kili took the opportunity to speak up. “What I actually meant was, what was that with your axe? I could have sworn it was glowing. And what made the troll go blind?”

“That was just a glint of moonlight, lad. The axe, anyway.” said Dwalin.

“No.” Gandalf emerged from the trees and made his way toward her. His eyes moved down to the stone still in her hand. It was glowing fainter now than it had been during her assault on the troll, having regained its normal level of luminescence. She kept it’s light shielded so the others would not see. “That, my dwarven companions, was magic. May I see it?” Din held the gem protectively against her heart, aware that the eyes of every dwarf had turned wearily to her at the word ‘magic’. Gandalf’s expression softened. “I will return it to you in a moment. You have my word.”

Tentatively, she placed the stone in his outstretched hand and its glow faded until it was all but gone. After analyzing its surface, Gandalf moved the stone closer to her and then away again, watching as its glow strengthened and faded as he did.

“Why does it do that? What is it?” Bilbo asked.

A small lilt of a laugh escaped Gandalf as he tested it again. “How intriguing! It is bound to you.”

“Bound? What do you mean, ‘bound’?” asked Bifur. Bofur placed protective hands on her shoulders as if he feared the stone might harm her.

“Do not worry, Master Dwarf. The stone will cause her no harm. In fact, as it did now, it’s magic will allow her to help you all on your quest.” A glimmer in his eye told her he knew more about the stone than he was letting on, but with everyone watching she was not inclined to delve too far into its magical properties. As a hardy and hard-working people, dwarves were not altogether curious of the ways of magic. They might appreciate Gandalf for his skills, but some might be less comfortable with one of their own possessing such talents. As promised, Gandalf returned the gem to her and she stuffed it into her pocket. “Now, we should get moving. It is unlikely the trolls traveled far in the open so there is likely a cave nearby.”

The group trekked back to the camp and gathered their belongings. Thorin made a point of avoiding Din’s eye and annoyance sprouted in her chest. She understood that, whether he would admit it or not, he had been afraid for his comrades, afraid for himself, and afraid for her. His standoffish and indignant attitude was simply a result of his inability or unwillingness to show his concern. But knowing this did not make his unpleasant mood any less provoking.

After checking the condition of the ponies and finding them in good health, they began searching for caves in the area. It was Kili and Fili who eventually found it, no more than a large hole in the ground. As the youngest of the group save for Ori, their eyes were the sharpest. Despite the light of the rising sun outside, it was drearily dark and dank inside. After a quick incantation, the crystal atop Gandalf’s staff lit and illuminated the walls. The moving light cast shadows around the walls that made Din jump as if another troll was waiting for them, but nothing came.

“Look at this!” cried Nori. He was stooped over a small treasure chest by the wall, filled to the brim with gold and jewels.

“Bury it!” declared Dori. “We can come back for it later.” Din chuckled and carefully stepped past them, wary of slipping on the damp dirt or the gold coins scattered about. She spotted Bilbo back by the entrance looking very uncertain and out of place. He rocked awkwardly on his feet with his hands clasped behind his back. Din strode over to his side—not very tempted to peruse through goods the trolls had stolen from their victims—and spun on her heel so they faced the same way into the cave.

“Hello,” Bilbo greeted. He stopped rolling his feet and have a little nod.

Din smiled. “Hello. I wanted to thank you for your help. Both for distracting the trolls and coming to my defense back there.”

Bilbo chuckled uncomfortably. “Yes, a lot of good it did.” He glanced at Thorin timidly and then looked away as if Thorin would be able to feel his eyes on him. Looking around at the enclosed walls, she suddenly realized their words might echo around a bit. She turned out of the cave and Bilbo followed. The sun was rising further through the trees filling the forest with a warm light. It felt soothing on her skin, as if warming what remained of the night’s fear from her bones.

“Regardless, you were still willing to speak up. I think the others hold him in such high regard that they’re sometimes afraid to speak their minds.”

“You don’t hold him to that regard?” Bilbo asked.

Din sat in a patch of sunlight and propped her elbows on her raised knees. She hadn’t realized just how exhausted she was until she was perched under its cozy gaze. A breeze rustled Bilbo’s blond curls like a bush when he crouched to sit at her side. “I do, I just . . .” She paused and tried to think of a way to phrase her thought, chewing on her lip. “I think there is a thin line between loyalty and mindless obedience. If you don’t speak what you mean simply out of fear of being scolded or punished for it, then your silence isn’t truly out of loyalty.”

They sat in comfortable silence as Bilbo mulled this over. With her head resting on her arms, Din felt herself beginning to fall asleep, her mind heavy. As it does when one is half asleep, time seemed to move at an inconsistent rate until Bilbo touched her arm.

“They’re coming,” he whispered. She accepted his hand and he helped hoist her to her feet. Thorin, of course, was the first to emerge from the cave. Bilbo offered a polite greeting and Thorin offered a gruff response. Din pursed her lips and crossed her arms, pointedly avoiding looking at him as he strode past them.

“If you tighten your arms any more, you'll squeeze the life from that tiny little body of yours,” Kili jostled behind her. She timed her strike and swung her fist out just as he was about to pass and he doubled over, the air rushing from his lungs. Fili and several other dwarves guffawed behind them.

 

* * *

 

 

The day’s ride had been long so far and it was barely past midday. The troop was all tired from not getting any sleep the previous night, but they couldn’t afford to fall behind by trying to catch up on their rest. Finally, it seemed the forest was coming to an end but the sun was so bright beyond the threshold that it was difficult to tell what was ahead at such a distance.

At the front of the company, Thorin perked up and listened intently to the forest around him. “Wait,” he called back to the rest. He dismounted and others followed suit. Most headed out to scout whatever Thorin had heard but Din, Bifur, and Ori waited behind with the ponies. As if sensing the tension in the woods, the ponies kept rearing and jostling around nervously.

Seemingly out of nowhere, an older man on a sleigh bolted through the trees some twenty yards away. To Din’s bewilderment, the sleigh was being drawn by rabbits. Huge rabbits! She gaped at Bifur and Ori to find out what was happening but judging by the dumbfounded expressions on their faces, this wasn’t something they had seen before either. However, whether they were startled by this man or something else, the ponies began to whinny and buck to show their displeasure.

The three Dwarves tried to calm them but to no avail. Before they knew it, they were chasing fourteen ponies through the woods until they disappeared in the brush with no chance of being caught.

“Now what?” asked Ori.

Bifur leaned on a tree taking deep labored breaths.“We go tell the others. With luck, the ponies will calm down and we can find them if we backtrack.” Once he caught his breath they jogged in the direction the others had gone. But when loud snarls and yells drifted to them on the breeze, Din’s heart began to race with panic, all thought of the ponies evaporated. The growling and barking ceased and they paused, unsure which way to go. Voices could faintly be heard, but where were they?

“That way!” Ori declared. They sprinted down a hill until they came to a short overlook. The company and the odd man with the sleigh were down below. Thankfully all appeared unharmed. To large wolves lay dead at their feet.

“We have to get out of here,” Dwalin growled.

“We can’t!” She called.

“The ponies, they’ve bolted!” Ori added. After a moment of shared uncertainty, the man in the brown robe tightly gripped what looked like a staff similar to Gandalf’s. Another Wizard? How many were there? And was that bird excrement down the side of his face? Din cringed.

“I’ll draw them off,” he declared. Gandalf faced him urgently.

“These are Gundabad wargs, they will outrun you!”

The strange Wizard met his eye with determination. “These are Rhosgobel rabbits! I’d like to see them try.” Before the matter could be discussed further, he leapt onto his sled and was careening around trees toward the boundary of the forest.

“What’s happening?” Din asked helplessly. Bofur rushed to her side.

“Orcs. Stay close,” he said. A chorus of howling rose in the distance and the troop marched onward. A wide rolling plain of green grass, yellowed bushes and towering boulders was stretched out before them. They waited behind one such boulder until the brown Wizard’s sled grew distant, being trailed by a pack of warg riders.

“Come along,” Gandalf instructed. As quietly as fourteen dwarves, a hobbit, and a wizard could move carrying large packs, they filed into the open. A line of wargs darted across a hill in front of them and the company stopped dead. “Stick together,” Gandalf whispered. He began leading them away before they were spotted and they wove close to the rock formations to avoid detection the best they could.

Thorin, just barely in the lead, halted before once again heading out into the open, but Ori didn’t notice and bolted past. “Ori, no! Get back!” Thorin grabbed the younger dwarf’s hood and pulled him back before he was seen. Gandalf and Thorin scouted around the boulder and ushered them forward when the hill was clear. Thorin met her eye as she moved forward with the others. As the situation warranted, he looked concerned after the safety of his people. She straightened, determined to look braver than she felt.

They paused again at a rock arrangement protruding from a hill and Fili lifted a finger to his lips, gesturing to the rock above them. Din could hear the snarled breathing of a beast. An orc was about to discover them. Her heart felt like it would pound right out of her chest. On Thorin’s order, Kili stepped out and shot an arrow. A warg and a grotesque monster in the shape of a man rolled off the rock and landed before them. Dwalin and Bofur acted first, slaying the beast but not without a great deal of racket. Din and the others winced.

After a silent interlude, a flurry of howls and shouts drew closer to them. “Run!” Gandalf cried. Despite the screaming in her legs and the burning in her lungs, Din willed her feet forward. They followed Gandalf’s lead until wargs appeared above the peak of a hill before them.

“Kili, shoot them!” Thorin yelled. Kili did so, but any warg he slew was replaced by another.

“There are too many! We’re surrounded!” Fili shouted. The rest drew their weapons, preparing for a fight. Din drew the gem from her pocket and gripped it as hard as she could. She tried to muster her courage to rouse its power, waiting for her axe to glow as it had the night before. But even as her desperation grew, no matter how she willed it the stone’s magic remained dormant.

“This way, you fools!” Gandalf’s head poked out of what appeared to be another cave.

“Quickly, all of you!” Thorin waited at its mouth for the rest to go first. The entrance was steep and Din’s back scraped against its rough surface as she slid down into its depths. Before he could be squashed by Bombur, Din helped Bilbo to his feet when he slid onto the landing. One at a time the dwarves filed in while Thorin and Kili fought off the orcs above until they were the only two remaining. But even once they were all inside, they were not safe. They waited for their enemy to appear in the mouth, but none did.

The blaring of a horn sounded above and the cries of the orcs echoed down to them. Eventually an orc flew inside. The dwarves parted, their weapons drawn, until it came to a stop. Dead. Thorin pulled an arrow from it’s chest.

“Elves,” he spat, discarding the metal stick with just as much disdain. He and Gandalf exchanged an intent look. The silence was broken by Dwalin, further down the cave.

“I cannot see where the pathway leads! Do we follow it, or no?”

“Follow it, o’ course!” said Bofur, ushering the others further in.

“I think that would be wise,” said Gandalf. Din heaved a sigh, trying to catch her breath and failing.

“Are you alright?” asked Bilbo. Unable to speak, she waved a hand dismissively. He waited for her to catch up before following after the others.


	8. Eight

The sun was setting when the narrow tunnels finally came to an end. The group emptied out onto a slippery stone landing overlooking a valley. A river snaked through the white stone of the mountains down far below and shrubbery clung to the mountain like moss. Across the ravine an elegant homely structure sat perched on the mountain’s foot, quaint and yet somehow breathtaking. Din stopped at the very edge of the path and looked down at the river far, far below and wondered how long it would take to cover the distance. A light feeling in her head nearly made her stumble and she stepped back. She was not so curious that she was willing to test it. Her companions gazed all about, wide-eyed and awestruck by the beautiful sight of the valley.

“The Valley of Imladris. In the common tongue it’s known by another name,” said Gandalf.

“Rivendell,” answered Bilbo, more to himself. Din had never heard of it, but he said it with a sort of reverence.

“Here lies the Last Homely House East of the Sea,” Gandalf continued. Thorin turned on him, scowling.

“You’ve planned this all along, haven’t you? Do you really think the Elves will give our quest their blessing? They will try to stop us.”

“Of course they will,” agreed Gandalf. “But we have questions that need to be answered.”

As they started to argue Din tapped Bofur’s shoulder. “What has Thorin’s beard in a knot?” she muttered.

Bofur wrapped an arm around her and gripped the top of her shoulder in a sort of familial hug as if doing so would keep the others from hearing. “You’ve heard the story, dearie,” he said. Gloin, overhearing, trudged over to join the conversation.

“The Elves abandoned Erebor when the dragon attacked. Left it to its fate without so much as a second glance,” he said.

Din nodded. “I know, but are these even the same elves? What does it matter what they are?”

“It matters.” Din and Bofur winced at the sound of Thorin’s voice behind them. She turned to look at him, intent on being more civil this time around. He seemed to be of similar thinking, his features and tone more reserved than they had been with Gandalf. “It matters because I cannot trust the safety of my kin in the hands of those who have been our enemy for so long.”

Din stepped forward to shorten the distance between them. “Everyone is hungry and we haven’t had proper rest. There’s barely any food in our packs and unless we want to risk rolling off the mountain trail into the river while we sleep, I’d say our options are pretty limited.” She held his stare and indecision roiled in his blue eyes like a storm at sea, weighing the needs of his company against his hatred and distrust for the elves.

Finally, the storm calmed on a bitter settlement. “No one ventures anywhere alone.”

 

* * *

 

There was no gate at the front of the house to keep strangers out. The company stomped across a narrow bridge onto a small stone landing. Gandalf took the lead this time and greeted the elf gliding their way down a tall stone stairway.

“Mithrandir,” the elf said.

“Ah, Lindir,” was Gandalf’s response. Din wondered how the two were acquainted. The elf began speaking in his native tongue and Thorin leaned closer to Dwalin.

“Stay sharp,” he whispered. The words exchanged by Gandalf and Lindir were now too difficult for Din to hear. It did not matter what they were discussing for long, anyway, because the blast of a horn behind them put every dwarf on alert. It was the same horn, Din noted, that they had heard on the field. The sound of hooves grew closer and she spotted a long line of horses marching down the narrow path the dwarves had just taken.

“To arms! _To arms!_ ” Thorin shouted in the dwarvish tongue of _Khuzdûl_ . The company drew their weapons and closed ranks in a circle as the party of elvish cavalry thundered across the bridge. Even closed into the middle Din could see the elves towering above her growling companions as the elves circled around their pseudo-wall of dwarvish attitude and iron. Perhaps it _had_ been an ill-conceived idea to come.

“Gandalf,” cried one elf pleasantly. He dismounted, his dark hair swaying like a curtain.

“Lord Elrond!” Gandalf moved forward in a small bow and the two began speaking elvish. Din looked confusedly at Bilbo, who had been closed into the middle of the dwarvish wall with her. Bilbo shrugged, just as lost. The tension she felt faded away when the elvish lord reached out and _hugged_ Gandalf. Exactly how much did this wizard get around?

“Strange for orcs to come so close to our borders,” Elrond declared brandishing a crude orcish blade. “Something—or someone—has drawn them near.”

Gandalf chuckled. “That may have been us.”

Thorin stepped forward to speak for the party and Elrond nodded in acknowledgement. “Welcome Thorin, son of Thrain.”

“I do not believe we have met,” said Thorin.

Panic sparked in Din’s chest. She was not wearing her beard. She patted her pockets finding only her stone and began rummaging through her pack. Still nothing. She groaned in defeat. It was in her other pack, the one Shayli had run off with.

“I wonder what business fourteen dwarves and a hobbit could have in these parts,” Elrond mused out loud. Din scooted further behind Oin who stood in front of her as Elrond's attention lingered on her.

“Thirteen dwarves. She is a hobbit,” Gandalf insisted.

“My mistake,” said Elrond. Amusement pulled his lips into a smile, but he nodded to accept Gandalf’s meaning. Any stories of this visit would tell of thirteen _male_ dwarves, a wizard, and two hobbits. Din let out her breath, but did not relax. Would every elf here believe she was a hobbit? Elrond spoke once again in elvish and the faces of the dwarves grew agitated.

“What is he saying? Does he offer us insult?” Gloin lifted his axe once more, ready to defend the honor of his kin. Several other dwarves mirrored his actions, grumbling in outrage.

“No, Master Gloin, he is offering you food,” said Gandalf. Gloin’s features went slack at the word and a loud groan emitted from his empty stomach. He turned to the rest. After quick deliberation among the group, he spun forward again.

“Right then. Lead on.”

 

* * *

 

For all the grief dwarf-women get for their reputation of looking like their male counterparts, Din struggled to tell the elf-men from the elf-women. Not only did they all have the same long straight hair, but they all wore what looked like dresses! In comparison to the one stick-like elf-woman she thought she _had_ spotted, Din felt frumpy and fat. And short. _Really_ short.

The assortment of food the elves had prepared for them left much to be desired. There was plenty of variety of fruits, vegetables, cheeses and wine, but Din spotted not even an ounce of meat. But even if there was plenty of meat, Din wasn’t sure she could stomach eating any with how self-conscious she felt.

“You know,” said Kili leaning closer to her. “I’ve never fancied elvish-maids. Too skinny. They’re all high-cheekbones and creamy skin.” Din smiled stiffly. What had probably been intended to make her feel better instead made her feel worse. She pulled her sleeves further down to cover the calluses on her hands. By Durin’s son! Had her fingers always been this stubby? She glowered over at the harpists long elegant fingers.

“Hey, Kili.” Across the table, Fili gestured to an elf playing a handheld harp behind Kili. He winked discretely at Din, tipping her off to his prank.

After giving the elf a once-over, Kili said, “Alright, this one’s not bad.”

Fili pinched his lips in barely contained laughter and Dwalin leaned forward. “That’s not an elf-maid,” he said. A horrified and pained expression crossed Kili’s features and Fili erupted in laughter, along with the other dwarves. Din couldn’t help joining in.

“Very funny,” Kili mumbled.

Din was unable to join in on the songs the dwarves sung that evening. Even if not all the elves believed she was a hobbit, she would at least try to act the part just in case and a hobbit would be unfamiliar with dwarven drinking songs. By the time supper was over she was feeling rather glum and separated from the group despite Thorin’s earlier command against it. She found a small balcony overlooking the river and—after making certain no elves were around to see—pulled the stone from her pocket.

It shone bright against the now deep sapphire blue sky and was far more beautiful than even the moon. But its beauty was useless to her. She thought back to the field and how she had been unable to get it to work. She had felt the same then as she had before killing the troll, so why hadn’t it worked? Din lifted the stone and was tempted to pitch it into the waters below out of frustration.

“Is it the food that’s got you down?”

Startled, she spun on Bilbo with her arm still raised and he dove out of the way, thinking she was about to throw the stone at him. ”Oh! I’m sorry!” she helped him to his feet and he sputtered an embarrassed laugh.

“I’m sorry to interrupt your thoughts, you just looked, well, sad, I guess.”

“Not sad, I would say. Just . . .” Din tucked the stone away and placed herself on a bench to frown down at her hands in her lap. “Out of place. Homesick, maybe, for what I know.”

After fidgeting indecisively about whether he should sit beside her, he settled for standing in front of her. “What do you miss the most?”

“Back home, I always knew my place. Now I’m out here and I’m not really sure where I belong. I know that sounds petty. After all, I demanded to come. I just can’t help feeling a bit useless. And I miss my mother, even if all we’ve really ever done is argue, and I miss the stillness of the mountain. Out here, between the wildlife and the wind, there’s too much noise. I can’t really sleep.”

“If you want to talk about petty, I miss my bed; my things. I even miss my insufferable relatives. No, on second thought, I don’t. But the first part is true,” said Bilbo. Din laughed and smiled up at the hobbit. “And the drinking songs! What a blast.”

“Hobbits have drinking songs?” she asked incredulously.

“Oh, yes. We can get rowdy, too. Judging by that look on your face, you don’t believe me. I could teach you a couple.”

She consented and he started by teaching her the words to a song called “The Green Dragon” which turned out to be about the ale of a drinking establishment by the same name. Next came the dancing. Dancing, for dwarves, didn’t involve a lot of partnership, but Bilbo had her link her arm with his while they danced in a circle or bumped their feet together in the air. Her lack of synchronicity made her clumsy and she kept tripping over his feet or stepping on his poor bare toes. Regardless, they roared with laughter the whole time and her spirits picked up quickly. Only when her legs’ complaints were too great to ignore did she sit down to breathe.

As he often seemed to, Thorin appeared in the archway of the balcony, his hands clasped behind his back. She wasn’t sure how long he had been there, but at least he had waited for them to finish. “Master Baggins, I need a word with Din.”

“Erm, yes, of course. Good evening, Thorin,” said Bilbo. The dwarf made no response as the hobbit scuttled past him. Once Bilbo disappeared into the hallway, Thorin stepped up to the stone railing of the balcony. Din remained in her seat and waited for him to speak.

“The two of you are becoming fast friends,” Thorin observed. He gripped the rail and gazed into the valley below, his features unreadable.

“Yes, he is very kind. But our friendship would not threaten anything.”

Thorin met her gaze as if searching for her meaning at the bottom of the brown pools of her eyes. She was both afraid to break the intensity of their eye contact and afraid of keeping it. “Would it not?” His words were barely audible.

“No,” she said with the barest shake of her head. The answer seemed enough for him. He relaxed as he let out a breath and returned his attention to the glossy surface of the river below. Din took a deep breath to slow her heart rate. “Did you and Gandalf actually meet with Lord Elrond about the map?” Even with need, she was not sure he would be able to share the map with someone other than his kin, let alone an elf.

“Unfortunately, there was little other choice. The map is of little use if we cannot read it. He says the true meaning of the map can only be read by the light of a moon that will take place two days from now. We will have to wait here until then. Unless all their green food kills us before then and all of this becomes moot.”

Din couldn’t help smiling. “Thorin, did you just make a joke?” His lips curved into a smile as well.

“Ah, there you are.” Their attentions turned to Gandalf in the archway. She expected his address to be directed at Thorin, but no, he was looking at her.

“Me?”

“Yes, my dear. Lord Elrond has agreed to meet with you," Gandalf said with a nod.

“What is this?” asked Thorin. “Have we not dealt with him enough for one evening?”

Gandalf shook his head. “That map of yours is not the only curious item your company possesses.”

Din grimaced and pulled the gem from her pocket. “You mean this.”

“Indeed.”

The elvish meeting room was flooded in blue moonlight from the wall of windows on the left-hand side. An archway in the center of the windows lead out into a balcony similar to the one they had just vacated, only larger. A white stone table engraved with intricate inlays was surrounded by chairs of similar design in the center of the balcony. It was here that they found Lord Elrond.

“Good evening,” Elrond greeted. Unable to find words, Din gave a graceless little bow. Thorin, at her side, gave a more dignified—if begrudging—one.

Gandalf nodded to Thorin. “Thank you, Thorin, but I will take care of this from here.” Thorin tensed and met her eye inquiringly. His familiar presence made her feel more secure in such a foreign place.

“I would prefer he stay,” she said quietly. Gandalf nodded his consent but glanced warily at Thorin. Exactly how much grief had Thorin given him over the map? Elrond gave a gracious smile and waited for them to address what they had come for. Unsure what else to do, Din pulled the stone back out of her pocket and set it on the table before her. It’s luster faded as she stepped back. Elrond straightened and muttered something to himself in elvish.

“Tell me,” said Gandalf looking down at her. “How did you find this?”

“I found it in the mines of Ered Luin over seventy years ago,” Din answered.

“Not where, but _how_ did you find it?” Gandalf asked. Confused, she quickly explained the events of the day she had fallen down the mine shaft.

“So, you discovered it in a moment of self-sacrifice?” Elrond clarified.

“Sacrifice might be a strong word. I couldn’t let him fall, though,” she said. Elrond smiled and lifted the stone. She cringed in distrust as if the stranger were holding a piece of her in his hand.

“And you were willing to fall in this young boy’s stead to see him to safety. It would take a strong act of love and courage to sway such a stone so greatly. It looks for the unyielding light in someone.” As he rounded the table closer to her the gem’s glow started to return. The elf lord held the stone out to her and it illuminated gleefully when she accepted it. “And it is most certainly bound to you.”

“Do you know what this artifact is, Lord Elrond?” Gandalf asked.

He nodded and met her eye intently. “If my theory proves correct, this is one of the Lost Stars of Varda.” Din gasped and nearly dropped it.


	9. Chapter Nine

"A 'Lost Star of Varda'?" repeated Thorin.

Elrond nodded. "It is a name given to them by the elves. You might know them by another name."

Din felt her heart pounding in her ears. "Silmarils," she breathed. Gandalf made a joyful yet surprised sound.

"How did you come to learn of the Silmarils?" he asked. She had learned of them from a book brought to her by Bombur years ago. Despite her living within the mountain halls of Ered Luin, he had not wanted her to miss out on the happenings of the world. As such, he would always bring a book back home for her. She had enjoyed the book on the Silmarils, but had always thought it was merely allegory. None of this she said, however, because her throat seemed incapable of forming any more words.

Elrond moved once again to the other side of the table to tell the story.

 

* * *

 

 

The Silmarils were created by a Valar called Fëanor from the light of the Two Trees which brought light to the land of Valinor in ancient times. They were then made hallowed by Varda, one of the holy Ainu, so that no mortal with evil will could touch them. With time, Fëanor grew greedy and kept their beauty for himself, allowing only his kin to look upon them.

But Melkor, another of the Valar, desired the stones for himself and used Fëanor's greed and suspicion against him, convincing him Fëanor's own half brother Fingolfin coveted the stones and planned to steal them. Fëanor threatened his brother's life and forged the first weapons. For his actions he was exiled from to a corner of the land and he brought his father and the Silmarils with him.

By the time the rest of the Valar learned of Melkor's manipulation, he had already escaped. He journeyed to Formenos where Fëanor had been banished to and tried once more to convince him of his brother's continued betrayal, but Fëanor did not believe him and would not entrust the stones to him. In an act of peace for rejecting Melkor, Fëanor was invited back to live with the other Valar. But Melkor was still yet determined to claim the Silmarils.

He besought the aid of Ungoliant and the monstrous spider destroyed the Two Trees of Light at his behest. They then returned to Formenos, slew Fëanor's father, and stole the three Silmarils. He fled with them to Middle-Earth and was henceforth known by the name of Morgoth. Without the light of the Silmarils, the Ainu Yavanna, goddess of fauna and flora, could not heal the Two Trees.

Fëanor persuaded most of his people to venture to Middle-Earth with him to retrieve the stones, blaming both Morgoth and the Valar for the death of his father and loss of his jewels. He and his seven sons vowed never to let the Valar use the stones to recreate the trees and swore an oath to fight anyone, may they be Elf, Man, Maia, or Vala, who withheld the Silmarils from them. He died shortly after venturing to Middle-Earth and his sons continued in his stead.

Eventually, the lovers Beren and Lúthien recovered one of the gems from Morgoth and it was passed down to his son Dior, and his daughter Elwing after him. The sons of Fëanor destroyed their city of Doriath in search of the stone, killing King Dior, and Elwing and her people fled. The sons hunted her to a refuge near the mouths of the Sirion river.

The sons of Fëanor attacked the haven in search of Elwing's Silmaril but Elwing escaped with her life by throwing herself with the stone into the sea. Ulmo, Dweller of the Deep, pulled her from the sea and gave her the likeness of a great white bird, the stone wrested safely upon her breast. She flew until she found her beloved husband Eärendil the Mariner on his ship and he drew the bird into his arms. In the morning, after she had regained her own form, she told him of the tragedy that had befallen their home.

Eärendil sailed to find Valinor across the sea and when at last they arrived, they became the first of all mortals to set foot on its shores. Eärendil pleaded the Valar to fight against Morgoth and his army that still devastated the land for the sake of both Men and Elves in Middle-earth. They accepted. The War of Wrath was raged against Morgoth's army and with his Silmaril shining bright, Eärendil slew the immeasurable dragon Ancalagon and cast it upon the ground. The Valar, unable to kill Morgoth, bound him into the Void. Though this evil was contained, the two other Silmarils were lost in the destruction the battle caused.

 

* * *

 

 

Elrond was gazing out at the stars with a soft fondness. "Eärendil returned to Valinor after the battle, where the light of his star can still be seen from here. It is said that the fate of Arda lies upon the Silmarils. Only when all three are returned to Valinor with there be everlasting peace."

"There is one bit of information you left out," said Din. "Eärendil and Elwing had two sons; Elros and Elrond." He turned just as she placed the stone on the table with trembling fingers and backed away so quickly that she bumped into Thorin. He held her arms to support her but she dare not look at him, afraid of his thoughts on the subject. Could he feel how badly she was shaking? "I will give it to you. As his son, surely you can watch over it."

Elrond's features were sympathetic, even sorrowful for her fear. "I am sorry, but I cannot. The stone did not choose me."

Thorin's grip tightened a bit. "Din, what—"

"How could it possibly choose me? It's just a stone!" She knew better, but the thought of accepting something so important terrified her to her core.

"They are not mere glittering stones, they are alive." Elrond stepped forward. Picking up the stone, he held it out to her once more. "It sensed something in you."

Din felt herself welling up. "No! I'm a dwarf, I cannot even go to Valinor. It chose the wrong person." The lass whirled around Thorin and sprinted from the room, ignoring their calls. Luckily she only heard one set of footfalls follow her. Only when Thorin's hand clasped hers did she stop but she did not turn to face him. She couldn't breathe, no matter how she tried. Her breaths came raspy, scratching at her throat and lungs. She pressed her free hand to her sternum, desperate for breath.

"Din," he said quietly. Since she would not face him, he moved around to look down at her. His eyes, reflecting the moonlight, seemed a brighter blue than normal and a line of concern was furrowed between his brows. The stone . . . no, the Silmaril shone faintly in his hand. Just as she had feared, he wanted her to keep it. She stepped back.

"I can't do it," she muttered. "I hoped you of all people would not want me to."

He frowned. "Why would you think that?"

Din let out an unamused laugh. "Did you not hear the story? Eärendil took down the largest dragon ever to walk Middle-Earth. You threw a fit when I killed a troll."

Thorin shifted uncomfortably on his feet. "That's why I came to talk to you earlier; to apologize for the way I acted. You were surrounded by trolls and there was nothing I could do. I was angry with the situation, not with you." He lifted the stone in his open palm and it glowed fondly in greeting to her. Her throat tightened but she stubbornly refused to acknowledge the mist in her eyes by wiping it away. He held her gaze earnestly. "I know you're afraid, as are all who are faced with great legacy."

"What if I'm not strong enough?"

"Not possible." Thorin stepped forward and softly brushed his hand onto the side of her face, faintly stroking her cheekbone with his thumb. Din closed her eyes and placed her hand over his, allowing his touch to calm her. "The stone saw in you the same bravery and strength that I see. Whatever is to come, you are not alone. We will face it together."

 

* * *

 

 

The rest of the company was to wait further up the path of the mountain until Thorin and Gandalf joined them. They had to sneak out one at a time to avoid drawing attention to their plan, for they knew that as soon as the elves learned the true nature of their journey, they would try to stop them. As it was the middle of the night, Bomber was fast asleep sitting against the mountain side, Bilbo dozing at his side, but the other ewarves talked restlessly amongst themselves in groups as they waited impatiently for Thorin's approach.

Din pulled her cloak tighter around her but it did little to warm her frozen bones. It seemed that, while her jewel protected her from the effects of heat, it had no intention of actually keeping her warm. She pushed spiteful thoughts of the rock from her mind as an arm wrapped around her shoulders. Bofur smiled down at her. His beard and funny braided hair, the same dark color as her own hair, swayed in the breeze.

"How are you fairing?" she asked.

"Oh, I'm not cold," he said. She chuckled.

"That’s well, but I meant it as a more encompassing aspect."

"Getting a little nervous, to be honest. We will soon reach the Misty Mountains. There are wild storms up there, and I don't care for thunder. Don't tell the others." He said the last bit more quietly, to avoid being overheard. Din smiled and gave his hand on her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. She rested her head on his shoulder and started to drift to sleep.

"They're coming!" Gloin whispered loudly. Her eyelids did not want to open, but she pulled them apart and let Bofur hoist her to her feet. Dwalin and Balin rushed forward to meet their cousin down the path. The three of them spoke in hushed tones as they approached and Gandalf shook his head.

"Speak more plainly. This information is important to the rest of your company as well," he said. The rest of the dwarves eagerly drew closer, at least, as best they could in such limited space.

Quite used to private dealings, Balin stepped back. "Oh, of course," he said with an embarrassed little chuckle.

"So, what did the map say?" asked Nori.

"'Stand by the grey stone when the thrush knocks and the setting sun with the last light of Durin's Day will shine upon the keyhole,'" recited Thorin.

"We'd best get a move on," said Dwalin. “Without our ponies we will need to cover more ground to reach Erebor in time."

With that, the company departed. Bifur and Bofur each took one of Bombur's hands and used all their weight to help him up and all three nearly tumbled right off the path and into the ravine below. They journeyed for days and there was still no sign of the path descending down the other side of the mountain range. It was a long, dangerous, and lonely pass, as no one spoke much.

Occasionally the heat of the midday sun would melt the snow above their heads and bring boulders down upon them. More days passed and relentless storms raged around them just as Bofur had feared. Din stayed close to him to offer what comfort she could when each crash of thunder scrambled his nerves. To her amazement, two stone giants were about in the valley; whether they were having a game of catch or waging war on one another, she could not tell. Her initial awe turned to terror when one chucked a boulder and it landed right in front of the company and bounced away in a shower of shattered rock.

Desperate for safety, the company hid under an overhanging part of the mountain to see if they could wait out the battle. They thought it might do when one of the giants ripped off the rock above their head and they all got drenched again.

"Move!" Thorin shouted. They scurried down the path as fast as they could without slipping, searching for anywhere they could stay. Fili and Kili rushed ahead to scout out any caves the others might miss.

"Over there!" Fili called back over the sound of wailing wind and pounding thunder. Sure enough, etched into the wall of the mountain ahead was a dark alcove. The entrance was barely big enough for Bombur to squeeze in. Din heaved a sigh of relief at being out of the rain. The crystal atop Gandalf's staff lit and they searched the cave to make sure it was safe. It was a fair size, though a little cramped for so many, and the ground was dry.

They set about changing their wet clothing to lay the sopping fabric flat to dry. Bofur held up a blanket to act as a curtain for Din, both to give her privacy to undress and to block her view of the others. Bombur stood back-to-back with his brother and crossed his arms over his sizable chest, scowling at anyone who dared move to close. Bofur kept his eyes firmly pinched shut, even though the blanket blocked his view of her.

"So, Bifur," he called over his shoulder. "What are you going to do with your share of the gold?"

Now dry, Bifur took Bofur's place holding the curtain so Bofur could change. Bifur, too, kept his eyes clamped shut. A content expression crossed his face as Bofur's question took him to a happier place. "Oh, I'm going to open a toy shop. The grandest toy shop you've ever seen!"

This did not surprise Din, as he was a toy maker. He would always give her toys as she grew up, even when she was too old for them. Her favorite had been a wooden swan on little wheels. She smiled fondly at the memory. Now finished changing, she pulled the stone from her discarded coat and slipped it into her pocket and then gathered up her wet clothing to lay it out on a rock so they could drip dry. Bifur waited for the others to finish before lowering the curtain. They all talked for a long time about what they would do with their gold and Din fell asleep to the happy images of all the dreams they described.

A shout awoke her some time later. She jolted into a sitting position to find a horde of goblins upon them. Caught off guard as they were, she saw her fellow companions scooped up six goblins to each dwarf and carried toward an open trap door at the back of the cave. How had they missed that?

A group of repulsive Goblins rushed on her and she instinctively pulled the Silmaril from her pocket. As if reading her mind's desire, it gave a brilliant flash and the goblins scurried backward in a fit of wails, covering their eyes. There was a loud crack and another flash and they fell dead. Din whipped around to look at Gandalf, his staff still brandished, ready to cast again. The goblins that remained scrambled after their allies through the trapdoor.

Din bolted for the hole but was not fast enough. It slammed shut with Bilbo and the dwarves on the wrong side of it.  
AN: I thank everyone for their kind words! Your loyalty inspires me to write. :) (sorry if my dwarvish is wrong. I only have basic knowledge of the language so I'm mostly going off of a dwarven dictionary and using basic syntax.) I would have made this chapter longer, but I've managed to catch a bug of some sort and my brain is all loopy on medicine.


	10. Chapter Ten

"No!" Din pounded on the trapdoor to no avail.

"That is no use. The door is sealed by goblin technology,” said Gandalf behind her. The cave still reeked of sulfur from the spell he had cast to kill the handful of goblins.

“Goblin technology?” Din scoffed. “They’re barbaric! How effective can their technology be?”

“Goblins delight in devices that help them cause pain. They do not make beautiful things, but they do make clever ones and they rely on surprising their enemies by hiding behind such doors.”

Din exhaled a sigh through her nose. “Alright. What do we do?” she asked. Gandalf squeezed past her in the tight space and she stepped back to give him room. He studied the wall, muttering incantations while she paced impatiently behind. Along with the dwarves, the goblins had taken all of their belongings as well.

Gandalf had had the sense to grab his sword and staff before the onslaught but all Din had was her Silmaril. There would only be so much she would be able to do with it in a fight and that was assuming she could get it to work on command rather than out of panic.

Gandalf looked back at her over his shoulder, his grey eyes intense in the luminescent glow of his staff. “Are you ready?” Din shifted on her feet in uncertainty, but nodded. There was no time for second-guessing while her friends were being carried away by goblins.

The loud clunk of a mechanism behind the door suggested the success of Gandalf’s incantation. She sprinted to his side and they gave the door a hefty push and it swung open on it’s hinges with a groan. The ghastly gaggle of goblins beyond nearly startled a scream out of her but Gandalf was ready. The wizard cast the same spell he had used before and with a loud crack and a brilliant flash the goblins fell dead. The stench of sulfur burned Din’s nostrils. It was likely that the goblins had been left to defend the entrance but they had no real defense against wizard magic. Such magic would be much more risky below, however, as the volume would draw too much attention. Din only hoped he had other offensive spells in his repertoire.

Gandalf peeked inside to make certain there were no more and at seeing the orange light of torches beyond, Gandalf extinguished his staff. “You should put that out as well,” he said, gesturing to her Silmaril.

“I can do that?” she asked in bafflement.

Gandalf chuckled. “Of course. It will do what you desire.”

“No, it won’t,” she argued. “It has only ever worked when I was panicked.”

“Exactly,” responded the wizard. He turned to face her more directly and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “The stone is connected with you. It is not a mere tool, it is part of you. You cannot simply tell it what to do, you must feel it. It will help if you try imagining what you want it to do.”

Din chewed the inside of her lip. “I think I understand,” she said doubtfully. Nonetheless, she closed her eyes and envisioned the stone growing dimmer, taking a deep breathe. As she did she felt the fire within her become quiet as well until she found an odd sense of calm. Gandalf made a victorious sound and she opened her eyes to find the stone lifeless in her palms. If she did not know better, she would say it was merely a pretty gem.

Gandalf turned back to the trap door. Once he was sure there were no goblins ahead, he moved inside. He did not glance back at Din, forcing her to move after him without hesitation. She tried to move quietly as she trudged after him but stealth was not a quality known among dwarves. The pile of dead goblins left her with an assortment of weapons to choose from and she settled on a rather nasty looking short sword with a serrated edge near the handle.

The tunnel was an ill fit for Gandalf and he had to stoop a great deal. His hat still scratched against the roof of the rugged pass. The place reeked of stagnant water, goblin sweat, and other types of filth that she dare not think about lest she lose her supper. With all the excitement of having prisoners, they hadn’t left the tunnel well guarded. They may have clever machines and weapons great for torture, but they were still imbeciles, Din mused.

The space opened up into a large cavern with many narrow paths around the edge and connected by crude bridges of rope and wooden planks. Gandalf paused and hunched beside Din. Quietly, they devised a plan.

 

* * *

 

 

Din rolled the last boulder over to the edge of the path with her feet. Sweat dripped from her face and dampened various areas of her body. With it in place, she unfastened the spare length of the ropes from one of the bridges and tied it securely around the boulder.

Peering down below to watch for the signal, Din waited impatiently in her position. On the central platform in the near distance below, innumerable goblins swarmed her friends. They had been brought before a large fat goblin who she could only assume was their king, given the boorish iron crown atop his misshapen head and his peculiar looking “thorne”. Tensions seemed to be rising and Din’s entire body tensed. Where was Gandalf?

Just then, all the torches in the chamber went out, plunging them into darkness. Where the fire had been on the central platform, a pillar of blue smoke emerged. The blue flash of Gandalf’s sword sliced through the king goblin and his subjects scattered in a clamor of animalistic shrieks.

Din gave the boulder a push with her feet and it slid over the edge. It disappeared into the darkness until she heard it crash into the goblins attempting to escape along their narrow aisle. She had aimed it away from the platform in the middle for risk of endangering her friends, but it would hopefully cause plenty of chaos. There was no time to waste as she ran to her next boulder by the dimmed light from her stone and repeated the process. She paused at the third, a smaller rock meant only to support her weight, and she positioned herself by sitting on the edge of the path. She was careful how she held her sword so she would not accidentally impale herself and slipped the Silmaril into her pocket so it would not be lost. She had lined up the shot beforehand so she would not need to aim in the dark.

She took a deep breath before pushing the rock off the path. She held fast to the ropes as her weight was yanked off with it. A sickening sense of weightlessness passed through her until the rope tensed. The descent felt longer than it probably was and she held her breath the whole way. Pulling the ropes toward her and extending her feet executed a sort of battering ram effect when she finally side swept through the line of goblins that remained.

Din leaped from her unusual device of transportation and drew her stone. Its light blinded the pair of goblins that still stood between her and the rest of the company. Luckily they had concealed themselves in the cave for so long that the glare of the Silmaril against the darkness staggered them, giving her the chance to run her sword through them and kick them from the bridge before they could recover. She let the last goblin fall over the side of the path and descend down into the abyss and sprinted to her comrades.

“Time to go,” she said as she stuffed her sword into its bulky goblin sheath. All of them seemed unharmed, from what she could tell by the light of the Silmaril. They greeted her with amorous pats and hugs. The glow of Thorin’s recovered elven blade brightened her heart when he strode to her side.

“Which way?” he asked. She searched for the glow of Gandalf’s blade, finding it at the end of the second path behind the king’s ‘throne’.

“There.”

“Quickly, before the torches relight,” Gandalf called to them. Din went across first and the rest filed behind in a line, each keeping their hands on the shoulders of the person in front of them so they would not fall off. Din paused at the other side to catch her breath and Gandalf counted as each member passed him until all were accounted for. Adrenaline caused her entire body to tremble with an eagerness to keep moving.

Fingers touched hers for the briefest of moments and she looked up at Thorin. “They will not be far behind,” he said. She nodded and, sure enough, the horrible squeals and cries of goblins began to echo around the cavern again. Thorin lead her to catch up with the others, who had delayed to wait.

Dwarves can move at a tremendous pace when under the right incentive and Bilbo had to be carried so he would not fall behind. But goblins, it seemed were faster. They knew the tunnels better, after all. Their cries grew louder and louder until Din could hear lots of goblin feet slapping the floor behind them. The torches blazed anew and the sudden flood of light startled not only the dwarves, but the goblins around the last corner as well.

She did not notice Dori, with Bilbo on his back, trip into a faceplant until she was tripping over his limbs. Her head smacked into a rock. Though it was not enough to knock her unconscious, her vision began to blur. She rolled onto her back aware only of the army of goblins thundering their way and that her arms were being drawn over someone’s shoulders. She thought it might be Dwalin. He hoisted her onto his back and made a run for it past the pile of hesitant dwarves.

Just then, Gandalf unlit all the torches again—this time he would keep them unlit—and sent another bolt of lightning down the tunnel. She was only vaguely aware of Thorin and Gandalf fighting in the back with Glamdring and Orcrist glowing brilliant blue. The screams of the goblins grew distant as Dwalin and the others moved farther down the tunnel. Din’s stone, still glowing in her hand, gave them just enough light to move by, but navigating the seemingly endless passages of the goblin tunnels seemed impossible. After what was probably hours of dead ends and turnarounds, a faint white light at the end came into view.

The fresh air outside cooled her heated blood as Dwalin set her down against the bark of a pine tree. Oin rushed over to tend to her head wound.

“It is not very deep but you've lost a good bit of blood,” said he. He ripped part of his sleeve and pressed it to her head.

“I’m sorry,” she muttered for being so useless during the escape. One of Dwalin's large hands patted her shoulder.

“Worry not, zunug u'zagh.” She looked up at him, startled. Worry not, courageous warrior. Coming from an old warrior like Dwalin, this compliment had much deeper meaning. He was acknowledging her, not only as a fellow dwarf, but as an ally in battle. Very few female dwarves had been acknowledged as such since the dwarves had come to Middle-Earth as they were usually kept safe inside their mountain halls. Glancing around at the rest of her comrades, they all seemed to think the same thing; she was one of them. At the absence of one pair of eyes, however, her heart stopped.

“Wait, where is Bilbo?” she asked. Gandalf straightened at her exclamation. In all the excitement he apparently had not noticed the absence of the quiet little hobbit.

“Dori, did you not pick him back up after you dropped him?” Gandalf towered over the dwarf, who stared right back in indignation.

“It was dark and I had goblins biting at my ankles. I thought someone else scooped him up and there was hardly time for counting,” Dori argued. Din fumbled to her feet, her head throbbing, and made for the cave entrance.

“Where do you think you're going?” asked Bifur, grabbing hold of her arm.

“To look for Bilbo. We can't just leave him in there. It's our fault he even came on this journey,” she said. “I will not leave him to be eaten by goblins. If the rest of you will not come, Gandalf and I will go. We fared well enough on our own.”

Kili blocked her path when she moved to the mountain again. “Yes, you did, but he might already be dead.” She looked at her comrades and they all appeared to be of similar minds.

“I can't believe this! We're supposed to look after one another.” She looked last at Thorin. “Please,” she said. After a tense moment, he looked away.

“I cannot risk the lives of my company for one burglar.”

“Then it's a good thing you won't need to,” said a little voice behind her. She spun to find Bilbo, his hair flattened with sweat and his face pink from running. Din pulled him into a hug that startled him. “Oh, heh, I'm glad you're alright, too.” Gandalf and the other dwarves crowded round to greet him in joyous relief. It was a short-lived reunion, however. Danger always seemed to be lurking around them.

The howls of wargs sounded in the near distance.


	11. Chapter 11

“Run,” Gandalf ordered them. The dwarves stared indecisively at each other for a moment. It was not in dwarvish nature to run if they could fight. As it was, only a few were armed and the rest could not fight off a pack of wargs with just their hands and thick skulls. “Run!” Gandalf shouted, louder. They did, down the steep grassy mountainside. A bit too steep, in fact. On the occasions that one of them did trip, a pine tree would eventually cease their descent and a comrade would help them up. The warg's, however, did not struggle with such terrain and their large paws could be heard pounding against the muddied grass and stone, hear their howls chasing after them.

Din felt her pulse quicken, her nerves bristle, her skin began to sweat. She forced herself to only listen to her breathing and the wind rushing past her ears. With each stride she took, the beasts still drew closer and closer. Confusion muddled her brain when Dwalin and Dori stopped thirty yards ahead and started looking around for options but panic sprouted in her chest when she realized that the mountainside ended in a cliff. She could not see how far it went down, but if they were making no effort to find a way down, it had to be a great distance. The dwarves and Gandalf started piling into a sort of huddle when Gandalf gestured upward with his staff.

“Into the trees!” he shouted. Dori and Nori piled into a pine with low hanging branches after Oin, Gloin, and Gandalf. Bifur, Bofur, and Bombur found a sturdy larch tree. Dwalin and Thorin helped old Balin climb a thick pine. Fili, Kili hoisted Din into a somewhat scraggly fir after Ori. As the smallest of the company, they were the only one's whose weight it could support. Only then did any of them realize that Bilbo was too short to climb into any of the trees on his own. He stopped trying to hop for the high fir branches and made a run for the thick pine that housed, Balin, Dwalin, and Thorin.

One of the wargs finally bound over a section of the mountain that jutted like a tumor and barreled toward poor Bilbo, putting its head forward to ram him. Bilbo held his sword outstretched at the last moment and the large wolf impaled itself on the blade. Its momentum drove Bilbo back until he collided with the tree. The hobbit stared down at the beast in disbelief and a bit of horror. It was probably the first thing he had ever killed.

Another warg came over the ridge and Din cupped her hands around her mouth. “Bilbo!” she shouted. Her voice drew him out of his mind and he spotted the second wolf running at him. Just when she was about to draw her goblin sword, thinking she might throw it at the beast like a javelin, when a figure fell above Bilbo. Just as it was about to reach the hobbit, Thorin fell upon the warg with his sword at the ready and it dug deep into its back. It gave a sickening cry of pain, shuddering as its life left its body.

Bilbo used the carcass of the first Warg as a stepping stool to reach the lowest branch. Thorin waited, even as more wargs swarmed over the bend, until Bilbo was safe before climbing after him. They were just out of reach when the next set of teeth leapt into the air to bite at their ankles. Din heaved a heavy sigh of relief. A large white warg strode into view on the mountainside, looking almost as bloodthirsty as its rider. The bulky white orc gazed down at the scene with a scowl etched into his face.

“Azog,” Thorin declared. Azog? Balin had told the company the story of the battle for Moria, how Thorin had done battle with the great pale orc, but Thorin had said Azog had died. Din looked over at him. His eyes were locked on the brute in a mixture of rage, disbelief, and maybe even the slightest hint of fear. Azog began speaking in orcish and defeat seeped into Thorin's expression. She could not understand the orc, but picked out the words “Thorin” and Thrain”. If there had been any doubt, they now all knew for a fact that he had been hunting them.

“It cannot be,” said Thorin. Azog shouted something else and twenty, maybe even thirty more wargs barreled toward them. They rammed into the trees and leaped at the branches, biting and wrenching and piling on. One by one, the trees began to give way to the onslaught. Ori grabbed hold of Din's arm to stop her from falling out when their tree started to fall.

They fumbled after Fili and Kili onto the next tree. Oin and Gloin had the same idea and called out to the others. They kept hopping trees until they could go no further. There were clearly too many dwarves for the tree and it was already beginning to wobble under the weight. She wound up on a higher branch with Kili when her own started to give. He insisted she stand closest to the trunk. This left him farther out on the branch than she liked, given that he weighed more.

Just then, a flaming pine cone connected with one of the warg's and it howled in pain and she looked up at Gandalf to see him lighting another one with his magic. He started tossing them down to the dwarves so they could throw them, giving himself time to light more. Din gladly accepted one as Fili quickly batted it at her.

Unlike the others, who had to throw them instantly to avoid getting burned, she was able to hold the embers in her hand. She took her time aiming and got in a few good shots at the wargs that had orcs riding on them. Unfortunatley, the fire spread from the cones onto the grass and pine needles piled on the ground, spreading faster with each cone that was added. It kept the wargs and orcs at bay, but was spreading closer and closer to their tree as well.

Two more wargs braved the fire and charged into the tree. The whole thing trembled. The weight of the dwarves only assisted the wargs as it brought the tree down from the other end as gravity got its greedy fingers on them. Most of it was draped over the side of the cliff. Kili and Din gripped the branch over their heads in time for gravity to wrest their feet free. The branch that had been under their feet ended up beside them.

But despite how hard they held on, the terrible shudder the tree gave when it hit the edge of the cliff was too harsh. Several dwarves, including Kili, either lost their grip or their branches snapped. Others had more to grab onto or were caught by friends but she couldn't focus on them. Din wrapped her hand around Kili's wrist and felt as if her arm would be wrenched from its socket when his full weight pulled on it. She screamed in pain and felt her heart stop. Kili's big brown eyes gazed up at her, afraid but at the same time full of trust. She was transported back to that mine so many years ago. His eyes had been just as trusting then, as if she had been an older sister he idolized. Even as they had clung to the wall of the shaft he had truly believed that she would see him to safety. She would not let him down now, not when they still had so far to go before their journey was over. She glanced at the side of the cliff not ten feet away and met his eye again. Kili nodded.

She did not have the strength to lift him the way she had when he was a boy. He was bigger than her now, after all. Instead, she began to swing him back and forth, letting the momentum carry him closer and closer to the cliff. Her arm began to burn as this added to the strain on her shoulder, but she swung until the trajectory was correct. She held her breath and released him. Only when he connected with the rocks and got a firm handhold on them did she allow herself to breath. Her heart lifted as he pulled himself to safety and he turned back to smile at her, his dark hair whipping against his sweaty face.

It was then that she noticed what had been happening on land during this little venture. Thorin had been the only one with the sense to leap from the tree as it fell. She'd vaguely processed him landing on the ground. He had managed to kill the two wargs that knocked the tree over and had apparently gotten into battle with Azog. But Thorin was outmatched against the large warg the orc rode and the force behind Azog's mace. He was lying wounded on the ground and Bilbo, of all people, was running to help him. An orc stood ready to lob off Thorin's head but Bilbo tackled him before the blade made contact.

“Kili!” she yelled, pointing at Thorin. Kili's eyes widened and he spun to see what had her in a panic. Since he had no bow and no blade, he picked up a burning tree branch and sprinted to join the fray. Dwalin and Gloin had managed to recover from the fallen tree and ran to give them aid brandishing the blades of orcs who had burned to death. Din was determined to help, also, but when she tried to hoist herself onto the branch but it gave a loud crack, unappreciative of the strain she had put on it.

“Hold on!” Bofur called to her. As one of the dwarves who had nearly fallen off himself, he was just now climbing onto the trunk of the tree. He fumbled over to help her just as the branch snapped. It didn't break off entirely, but Din was now dangling dangerously over the land far below, her arms and legs wrapped around the branch. Down below the trees and fields were green with the life of summer, she could tell, even in the blue moonlight. But no amount of luscious grass would make a two-hundred foot fall survivable.

“Din!” Bofur's hand was stretching toward her, as far as he could reach. It wasn't enough, they both knew. Even hugging the trunk, his arm wasn't long enough. She tried to shimmy up as carefully as she could but what what was left of the branch started to tear. Her fear paralyzed her and her lips started to tremble. Not even the Silmaril could help her now. A tear rolled down her cheek. She couldn't bare to look up at Bofur when the branch finally broke off. She didn't want to see the sadness and terror on his face. She didn't want to see anything so she clenched her eyes closed.

“Eagles! The eagles are coming!” Din faintly heard someone yell. She forced her eyes open and in fact saw an enormous majestic eagle swooping to intercept her fall. Her relief was indescribable when she landed on its back. Now that she was out of harm’s way she tried to collect herself but she couldn't stop the tears from pouring down her face.

Alone or in pairs, her friends were all collected by eagles, as well. Azog's angry cries faded into the distance as the eagles soared to the safety of the night sky where only the stars kept them company. Bofur smiled at her from the eagle next to hers and she tried to do the same. The brims of his eyes were red as if he had been fighting not to cry. Looking at her allies, all of them seemed to be more or less unharmed. All of them except Thorin. He hung seemingly lifeless in the grip of one of the eagle's talons, unresponsive to the harsh wind on his face. She felt as if she would not truly be able to breathe again until he opened his eyes.

 

* * *

 

 

The sun was rising, painting brilliant shades of pinks, oranges, and blues across the horizon. The eagles were making their descent to safe ground in one of the valleys of the Misty Mountains, far enough that the orcs would not be able to follow. Thorin was set down first, on a rock formation that stood as a hill. Gandalf was next and rushed to his side to check on him. As soon as Din's eagle was close enough, she slid from its back and landed in a sprint to run to them. She knelt on Thorin's other side, taking stalk of his injuries; His nose was broken but was not a big concern. His chest was covered in blood from half a dozen puncture wounds. They were in a curved line, so she assumed it was the warg's doing. Gandalf placed a hand over Thorin's eyes and started muttering incantations.

“Please wake up,” Din said, so softly that even Gandalf might not have heard it. She held Thorin's hand in hers not caring that the others were starting to crowd around as well. Gandalf pulled his hand away and Thorin's eyes opened. She made a sound and he squeezed her hand in response. Dew glistened her eyes when he met her gaze, but she didn't care. She let go of his hand and he reached up and coiled his fingers in some of her dark hair. She couldn't help a little laugh of relief.

A memory passed behind his eyes and he frowned. “The halfling?”

“He's alright,” Gandalf said with a smile. “Bilbo is here, he's quite safe.”

Din and the others looked around to find Bilbo and spotted him standing by himself some yards away. He was smiling but looked as if he didn't want to intrude on the family reunion. Thorin tried to stand but his injured body failed him. The other dwarves helped him to his feet and Dwalin supported his weight until his legs strengthened. Thorin then stepped closer to Bilbo, shrugging off help with dwarven pride.

“You,” he said. Bilbo averted his gaze as if he thought he were about to be scolded. “You defended me.” No one looked more shocked than Bilbo when Thorin hugged him. Din felt herself beaming as broadly as others. “After the way I have treated you, you risked your life to save me. I was wrong to have doubted you.”

They parted and Bilbo's face was pink with embarrassment. He stepped back and his expression turned humble. “I would have doubted me, too. I'm not a hero, or a warrior, or even a burglar,” said Bilbo. He glanced pointedly up at Gandalf, who chuckled. The eagles flew by overhead, returning to wherever it is they live.

“They won't fly us the rest of the way, I take it?” asked Bombur wistfully. Laughter echoed from the company.

“I'm afraid not. Beautiful creatures that they are, they care little for people of the world. They came only because they owe me a life-debt.” The others watched the eagles soar away, but Din was transfixed in the opposite direction.

Thorin frowned down at her. “What is it?” She pointed at the horizon.

“Is that . . . ?” She did not finish her question, but she did not need to. Off in the far distance, a tall mountain towered over the others. Thorin moved as close to it as he could on the rock and the others, realizing what was happening, followed.

Gandalf gripped his staff, smiling. “Erebor and the Lonely Mountain. One of the last Great Dwarven Kingdoms of Middle-Earth.”

“Our home,” said Thorin fondly.

“Look, birds are returning to the mountain,” said Dwalin as a little bird flew by, making a beeline for Erebor. Truly tiny compared to the monstrous eagles that had just departed. Gandalf beamed.

“That, Master Dwalin, is a thrush.” he said.

“I will take it as a sign. A good omen,” said Thorin.

“You're right.” Bilbo nodded his agreement. “I do believe the worst is behind us.”

Din laughed, glancing sidelong at the hobbit around Thorin. “Perhaps not, but we're halfway there.”


	12. Chapter 12

Now that all the excitement was over, Din regretted having been so open with the way she felt about Thorin. Not for embarrassment or shame, but for fear that the rest of the company would assume this was the only reason she had come; that she was a silly girl with an infatuation. Whenever he would address her she would spot another dwarf or two glance their way with a peculiar expression. What was behind the expressions, she could not tell.

Bifur and Bofur worried her the most. Each time he had addressed her since he had woken, their faces would turn red and uncomfortable. The only members of the company who didn't seem to be bothered were Bilbo, Gandalf, and surprisingly, Bombur. She'd taken to sticking by them and avoided looking at others.

Thorin's wounds had been tended as well as Oin could manage but he had no real supplies to work with. The stroll down the rocky hill the eagles had landed them on was steep, but crude little steps had been added. They spiraled down them and at the bottom they found a little river. As they stopped to drink and wash up a bit, Gandalf peered at the forest around them. Din pulled her boots off and slowly dipped her feet into the river, the cool water washing the sweat and dirt out from between her little toes.

“What's our plan?” asked Bilbo. He was sitting under the shade of a fir tree with his head rested against the trunk and his eyes closed. If he hadn't spoken, she would have assumed he was asleep.

“We have no food, no baggage, and no ponies to ride,” observed Gloin as he sat on a relatively flat rock beside his brother. “We also have no idea where we are.”

Gandalf returned his attention to the group. “Ah, but I can tell you that, Master Gloin. We are still some good miles north of the path we should be following. There are few people in these parts, but there is someone who lives not far away.” He turned back to the rocky hill they had climbed down. “I believe he calls this a Carrock. It was he who etched the steps into it. He does not come here often, but his house is not too far.”

“And who is he?” asked Balin. An uncomfortable expression dimmed Gandalf's face.

“He is kind enough under pleasant circumstances, but you must be very polite when I introduce you. All of you.” Gandalf sent a pointed look to Thorin, Dwalin, and Gloin in particular and Din tried not to laugh at their outrage. Gandalf lifted a hand to silence them when they started to argue. “He is not overly fond of dwarves to begin with and he can be easily angered. Trust me, it is dangerous to make him angry.”

Din grimaced and glanced at the wizard over her shoulder. “If it's so dangerous, then is it wise of us to seek his help? Is there really no one else we could go to?”

“In our condition, I am afraid not.”

 

* * *

 

 

It grew very hot and the aching of their empty bellies and parched throats made the day's journey even more miserable. Even when they rested in the shade of trees Din would swelter in her thick dwarven clothing. They lived mostly on wild berries and honey in the days it took to find who they were looking for. Gandalf insisted they kill nothing in this forest. The trees eventually ended, subjecting to them to the full blast of the sun's scrutiny. Around midday Bilbo started pointing out splotches of flowers that looked like they had been planted rather than grown naturally.

Din was far too busy worrying about the bees, though. Big bees, bigger even than her thumb. She flinched away from a pair that buzzed past and Fili laughed.

“I had no idea you were afraid of bees.”

She glowered at him. “I'm afraid of these bees. If one stung me it would likely leave a welt the size of an apple. A big bruised apple.” Fili roared with laughter but stumbled over his own feet to scramble away when one of the big furry bees flew at his face. Now Din laughed.

“We have reached his bee pastures. These bees do not have stingers, but mind they do not bite you,” Gandalf called over his shoulder. The pasture ended at a belt of ancient oaks and they finally stopped for another rest. They were all sweaty and red faced as they lowered themselves to the ground except for Oin, who sternly insisted on taking another look at Thorin’s wounds.

Dwalin and Thorin had been the only members of the company who had kept their wineskins on their person rather than have the ponies carry them. With only two, they had each had to drink sparingly. They passed them around now and Din hesitated when one reached her. Poor Uncle Bombur looked as if he might pass out of heat exhaustion, his face scarlet against his orange hair. Din got his attention by patting his arm and offered him her share.

“Oh no, I couldn’t,” he protested.

She extended the leather pouch closer to him. “Please, we’re nearly there. I don’t need it as much as you do.” His gaze lingered on it and he gave in, giving her hand a gracious squeeze. She smiled and settled into the ground beside him, pulling her dark hair off her sweaty neck so it was draped over one shoulder. After a few minutes of rest, however, she became very aware of how anxious her bladder was. Stifling a groan of complaint she forced herself to her tired feet again.

“Where are you going, lass?” asked Nori who leaned against an oak across from them. Din felt herself flush.

“Oh, erm, I'll be right back. I just need a minute of privacy.”

“You shouldn't wander off alone,” Bofur said. He started to stand.

“Rest up, Bofur,” Kili said patting him on the shoulder. He smiled at Din. “I'll watch your back. Figuratively speaking, of course. I won't actually watch.”

Din chuckled and nodded. They hadn't really spoken since the battle, having been so distracted by Thorin’s condition and their lack of supplies and all. They trudged through the trees in silence for a minute until they were out of earshot of the others and then she hid behind a tree to do her business. When she was done she found Kili sitting against the tree on the other side with his elbows resting on propped knees and eyes closed. She sat beside him as quietly as she could but she was still working on her stealth. He jumped awake and she chuckled. “Sorry,” she said.

He grinned and straightened a little. “Took your sweet time.”

Din snorted a laugh and started elbowing him in the arm. “I did not.” He laughed, trying to lean out of reach of her elbow.

“Alright, you win.” He held his arms up in surrender. They settled down in a comfortable silence for a few moments, listening to the many birds in the trees around them and the rustle of rabbits in the underbrush. “I never thanked you properly for what you did.” He was staring at his hands looking almost embarrassed.

Her heart warmed. “You don’t need to. You would have done the same for me.”

“Regardless, that’s twice now you’ve saved my life. Not to mention what you and Gandalf did for us in the goblin tunnels and what happened with the trolls.”

“Gandalf stopped the trolls and he did most of the work in the tunnels.” Din pulled the stone from her pocket and turned it around in her hands. “I wouldn’t have come this far without this.”

“Can I see it?” Din tossed it to him and he caught it easily. He smiled as he held it up against the sun peeking through the canopy of leaves. “Has Gandalf been able to tell you what it is, yet?”

Din frowned. Should she tell him? “He, um . . .” Noting her hesitation, he lowered the stone and looked at her. Thin lines formed around the corners of his mouth as his lips turned downward. He was about to speak when his attention jerked to the trees around them, listening intently. Din followed his gaze, confused until she realized what he was listening to; nothing. All the birds stopped singing. That was odd. Kili handed the Silmaril back to her and silently rose to his feet and crept forward. Looking back, he gestured for her to follow. While it was a pretty large belt of trees the dwarves had wandered into, the two of them neared the edge of the trees shortly. A loud roar stopped them in their tracks. Kili trekked up a rocky hill to a cliff and peered around a large boulder.

“Do you see anything?” Din asked as she tiptoed to his side. The other side of the boulder descended to a valley with a river flowing down below. She was reminded of the overlook they had found at Rivendell, except that this was less awe inspiring. Her breathe ceased when she spotted a large creature maybe fifty feet away, looking out over the same river they were. It's body was rounded but it emanated a powerful presence.

“It's . . . a bear. A big bear,” whispered Kili. The bear's fluffy round ears perked up anyway and it's head turned in their direction. It didn't appear to have seen them, but it certainly would see them when they moved, no matter how slowly they retreated. Invisible fingers shivered down Din's spine. What was one supposed to do in the face of such a beast. She looked to Kili for answers, but he had gone visibly pale and didn't seem all too sure of what to do either. Another ferocious roar pulled her attention back to the bear. It was definitely looking at them now.

Kili's fingers wrapped around Din's wrist and he pulled her in the direction they had come. They whipped around trees and over rocks as fast as they could, but the bear could be heard thundering behind them. Her pulse quickened with every rustle of greenery in the distance. Finally the resting spot of the company came into view, many heads peering curiously in their direction. Another roar set each of them into an offensive stance.

“No, run!” Din and Kili shouted together. Gandalf seconded the motion and directed the group the other way. Thorin, as the protective leader of the group, waited until both Kili and Din had passed him before joining the evacuation. But that put him closest to the bear's large teeth, Din fretted. But when she hesitated to wait for him he placed a hand on her back to nudge her forward. The bear was gaining on them. Her parched lungs began to burn when they reached a long impressive wall that separated the grove from a wide field within.

An enormous house stood tall further back. Despite its expansive size, it still looked rather homely. This must be the home of the man Gandalf wanted to introduce them to. Their long line of dwarves bumbled for the front door as quick as their legs could carry them but the huge black bear rampaged into the clearing. The company ended up clogging the entryway at the door, pounding on it's heavy surface with no sign that it would open.

“The beam!” shouted Thorin. Gandalf reached the dwarves just then and reached over them with his staff to lift the wooden plank that prevented the door from opening. How had they missed that? Din would have laughed had the situation been less dire. Thorin gave another shout just as the doorway was clear enough for Din to run through after the others and she turned to see a large clawed paw swinging toward her. He moved in front of her to shield her just in time and they were both sideswiped a good few feet to the left. They landed in a little heap with him more or less on top of her. Even knowing he stood at an astounding five feet, it surprised her how heavy he was.

He rolled off of her wincing deeply and gripped his chest. Had his wounds been reopened? “Thorin?” She reached over but was unsure how to help him without hurting him more. Back at the door the bear was attempting to barrel through but the others must have been doing their best to brace the door closed with their weight. Had they not noticed that she and Thorin were still outside?

She leaped to her feet as the bear turned toward them, the dwarves in the house forgotten. They were the easier prey. With no other options, Din drew her goblin blade and brandished it with both hands to get a firm grip with her trembling hands. The bear stared her down, sizing her up, but she did not move.

“I will not let you hurt him,” she said maintaining a defiant eye contact. Something changed in the bear's demeanor as it held her gaze. It did not calm, but at the same time appeared to comprehend what she had said. It stepped back looking as if it were fighting some strong instinct within itself. Just then the others must have noticed the absence of their leader because the door was pulled open to the sound of panicked dwarves. They rushed out but stopped in a mob when they realized the bear was just standing there.

It ignored them, keeping its attention locked on her instead. It took a step forward again, as if to test her resolve, but she tightened her grip and readjusted herself so she was standing more directly between it and Thorin. She tried not to jump in surprise when Thorin's arm extended past her right side, brandishing Orcrist at the beast. He was standing behind her a bit and with his arm outstretched he formed a sort of protective semi-circle around her. His other arm must still have clenched his injured chest. With one last resentful growl at the lot of them, the bear shook it's massive head and turned to run from the clearing as if doing so before it changed its mind.

Din's shaking hands released the sword and it dropped to the lush grass with a muffled thud. Before her body could freeze up, she spun to face Thorin. He was gripping his abdomen, clearly in pain, and let Orcrist fall from his grip as well. She moved to his side to support him as best she could.


	13. Chapter 13

“What was that thing?” Kili asked.

“Our host, Beorn. He is a skin-changer.” Judging by the calm reactions the others gave, Gandalf must have explained this while she and Kili had been away. Lovely.

“Inside, quickly! Before he changes his mind,” Bifur said holding the large door open. The rest of the troop parted like soldiers at a royal assembly to give Din enough room to help Thorin to the door. The main room inside was enormous, with a ceiling that towered overhead. She paid little mind to the room's many wooden furnishings as she carefully lowered Thorin to a chair.

Oin started listing off instructions to the others. Ori and Balin started a search for linens they could lay on the ground and Dori started kindling the fireplace to boil water. Dwalin braved venturing outside with Gloin, Bombur, and Nori as backup in search of a water well to fill the little cauldron they had found. The rest started searching the house for a list of herbs Oin had requested.

“Do you have any idea where they will be?” Din asked Gandalf. They turned into a hallway lit with lamplight and pink sunset light from windows in the rooms. Fili and Kili, ahead of them, turned into the first room they came to.

“Likely in his pantry. I have not been here myself. It is Rhadagast who told me of Beorn and his home. Beorn is not overly fond of outside company, but he and Rhadagast share a love of living creatures,” Gandalf explained. Bilbo started asking questions about Gandalf's brown-clad associate and Din occupied herself with glancing inside the rooms. When she came to one stocked with food, she veered inside.

She analyzed the shelves until she found what appeared to be a small section of herbs. One plant's scrawny stalks, needle-like leaves, and small purple flowers identified it as rosemary. She collected it and another similar looking plant with rounded leaves and more little purple flowers that instead ascended into a point; sage. Looking at the rest, however, her mind went blank.

“What else does he need?” She asked glancing back at the door. She stepped out of the way as Bofur trotted over. He started leaving through the plants, pulling out the others Oin had asked for. His fingers started tapping the shelf impatiently as he looked for something.

“Do you see any skullcap?” he asked.

“What does it look like?” she asked uselessly.

“Up here.” Gandalf reached above them to one of the shelves they could not see and pulled out a bundle of green stems with oddly shaped little fuchsia flowers.

“Ah, excellent.” Bofur snatched them and scurried past Fili, Kili, and Bilbo in the doorway.

Din reentered the main room in time to see Thorin's shirt slip off his shoulders, revealing muscles that rippled along his shoulder blades. Din felt her face pink and she had to reminded herself to stay focused. This was easier to do when his bandages were removed and she lingered on the warg's teeth marks on his back that mirrored the ones on his chest. They weren't as deep, but the skin around them had turned pink. Were they getting infected?

Thorin dropped his shirt onto his discarded coat and Bofur and Fili helped Thorin lie on the linens Balin and Ori had strewn out to make the floor more comfortable. Dwalin, Nori, Bombur, and Gloin had returned with the water and set it above the fire to heat it.

Oin glanced at the dwarves around the room and settled on Din. “Din, you've had experience cleaning wounds before back in Erid Luin, correct Lass?” She nodded feebly. It had never been her responsibility to actually treat the various wounds miners received, but she would help with simpler tasks like cleaning the wounds and washing linens often enough.

She gathered the washcloths that had been piled on the dining table and grabbed the pot from the fire. As most of the work now went to Oin who started preparing the herbs with some help from Bofur, the group dispersed into the hallway to give Thorin some privacy during the process.

One of the upsides to the immunity the Silmaril granted against fire, aside from the obvious perks, was that the heat of the water didn't bother her. She knelt beside Thorin on the floor and dunked one of the rags into the water's sweltering depths and ringed it out until it was left damp.

She was struck by a sudden bout of nerves roiling in her stomach and chewed on her lip, glancing down at the punctures in Thorin's chest. Cleaning them would hurt, she knew, and the idea of causing him pain made her squirm. But it needed to be done. Din avoided meeting his eyes—doing so would only make her lose her nerve—and pressed the cloth to one of the afflicted areas. His muscles clenched but he kept mostly quiet as she cleared away the blood and sweat. Only when her hands were concealed in the pot, rinsing the rag whenever it got too blood-soaked, did she allow them to shake.

Oin and Bofur carried over clay mortar's with ground up herbs. The first, a mixture of sage and rosemary, the medic applied around the wounds These, she knew, would help reduce the swelling. The stems of the skullcap plant Bofur had pointed out was mashed in one of the mortars. Yarrow powder was the only other herb she could readily put a name to. It was used to stop bleeding, if she remembered correctly. The rest she was uncertain of.

With nothing to occupy her, all Din could do was look at the wounds. Holes is what they were. There were holes in Thorin's abdomen. As she thought about the reality of this concept, nausea churned in her gut. While Oin and Bofur were still busy applying the sage and rosemary, Din stood.

“I'll give you some privacy,” she muttered. She strode quickly from the room to a now empty hallway. The voices of the rest of the dwarves drifted from the third room, which she'd seen was a small seating room. She dared not join them until she collected herself. Bending over always seemed to help in these situations, so she braced her hands on her knees, leaning against the wall. Deep breaths eased her anxious stomach.

Bilbo silently peeked out of the room, his grey eyes alight with curiosity. “Oh, um, are you alright? You look rather pale.” Din straightened and he joined her by standing against the wall.

“Yes. I never struggled with this back home, it’s just . . . it's different when the one injured is someone you know.” Din frowned down at her shoes, not unaware of the way Bilbo studied her as he moved to lean against the wall next to her.

After an awkward silence, he blurted, “Does Thorin know how deeply you love him?” Din felt her face redden deeply. “Oh, I uh, I shouldn't have asked—that was rude of me,” he stammered. She was about to brush the subject off but second guessed the idea. Of the three who seemed least bothered by the prospect of her feelings for him, maybe it would be wisest to confide in Bilbo. She certainly wouldn't feel comfortable talking to Uncle Bombur about it and Gandalf had much bigger concerns than the romantic whims of a young dwarf lass.

“It's alright,” she said. She kept her voice low so it would not drift to the other room. He was still stumbling over apologies so she put a hand on his shoulder. Bilbo quieted down to let her speak. “I haven't told him plainly, but he is aware.”

“He feels the same. I've seen it when he looks at you. Do dwarves marry?”

Din sputtered a laugh. “You're getting a bit ahead of yourself. But, to answer your question, yes. We do marry, but not nearly as often these days. There are far fewer dwarf-women than dwarf-men, so few of our male counterparts take the time to look for a wife. All my mother has ever wanted is for me to find a husband, but it was never something I really considered.”

Confusion muddled Bilbo's face. “Why not? What about Thorin? Wouldn't she approve of his title?”

“You saw the way they all looked at me when they realized how I feel, didn't you?” She gestured toward other room, full of dwarven laughter. “Thorin is a great deal older than I am. I don't know how it works with halflings, but it's quite a large obstacle to us. And even if I was closer to his age, there is no royal blood in my line. Royals do not marry below them, not even a king.” Bilbo pinched his lips in thought and Din pushed away from the wall. “We should rejoin the others.”

“I think you misunderstand the way they look at you,” he said. She glanced back, startled.

“What do you mean?”

He shifted on his feet, still leaning against the wall. “They were surprised, yes, but I don't believe it's disapproval you see in them. Or, most of them. I think it is a sort of wonderment.”

Din frowned at the wall, considering his interpretation. She then shook the thought from her mind. Whether or not the other dwarves approved was irrelevant to the tasks at hand. They had much more pressing matters to deal with. Their first priority had to be reclaiming the Lonely Mountain.

 

* * *

 

 

Warmth cocooned Din comfortingly and she pulled the blanket tighter around herself, nestling the side of her face further into her pillow. The smell of fresh bread filled her nostrils and she smiled. But when she remembered that it was not her mother preparing her breakfast and that she was not in her bed back in Erid Luin, a forlorn sadness roused her from her sleep.

In the months since she had left home, she had done her best not to linger on thoughts of their safe mountain halls, to avoid the sickness she felt for the familiarity of the things she had grown up with; her mother's herbed bread, the laughter of the other dwarf-women as they gossiped about petty things, the spices Bofur used to bring her to cook with, even the way her footsteps echoed around the stone halls.

Refusing to wallow for too long, she forced herself to rise from her bedroll. It had been several days since they had arrived at Beorn's house. They were giving Thorin time to rest and heal before venturing to the dangers of the Mirkwood and Beorn had been generous enough to allow them to stay. It had taken some persuasion, given that he wasn't overly fond of dwarves and there were now fourteen camped in his home, but Gandalf had used his charms to grant them clemency. They had seen little of the skin-changer since.

The rest of the company was awake by now, as they always were when she awoke. They seemed inclined to let her rest as long as she wanted while she had the chance, even if it meant sleeping through breakfast. Bombur always saved her a fair share. But she did not hear the ruckus the dwarves usually made.

Nonetheless, she expected to find her fellow dwarves setting up breakfast when she turned into the main room, but instead found a frightfully tall man in simple clothing laying out food on the dining table. His hair ascended into a sort of peak before cascading down his back in a similar fashion to Nori's, although his appeared less intentional. It also appeared to actually have grown out of his back.

Her eye lingered on the iron shackle that clanked at his wrist and then scolded herself for being rude. She peered up at Beorn and smiled politely, which he answered with a bow of his head. Gruff as he may be, he had been cordial in the brief encounters she had had with him.

“Good morning,” she greeted. “Where are the others?”

“They said they wanted to 'stretch their legs',” he said, his deep voice carrying over his shoulders clearly. Din nodded and glanced out the window. Sure enough, Kili whizzed by, followed closely by Gloin who was shouting. Whether he was angry or joking, she could not say.

She turned back to Beorn, biting her lip in uncertainty. He wasn't too busy, just stirring a stew over the fire. “May I ask you something?” He gave a low grunt that she had learned to accept as a 'yes' and she hopped into one of the chairs around the table. The other dwarves, while not able to sit completely comfortably in the tall chairs but being tall enough not to need to jump, had teased her relentlessly the first time she had done so. Bilbo, too. She crossed her feet as they dangled freely above the floor and braced her elbows on the table.

“Why did you allow us to stay? I know the other day you spoke of what Azog had done to your people, but you did not know who Thorin was when we first arrived, let alone that we are fleeing Azog's forces. You just knew a group of dwarves were invading your home. So why did you surrender when you easily could have overpowered us?”

Beorn did not answer for a long while. She decided he had either not heard her or had no intention of answering when his answer came in a low grumble. “It is because of my family that I allowed you to stay. I do not like dwarves. They are vain and greedy. Your visit has not changed my mind of that. But I saw another side of dwarves in that moment. When you put yourself between Oakenshield and myself, I saw in you a devotion I have not seen since my kin were taken from me. Any action I took against you or your fellows would dishonor their memory. It is rude to eavesdrop.”

Only when Beorn turned around, his eyes moving to the door, did Din realize the last part was not directed at her. She turned around in her chair and, naturally, found Thorin in the doorway bathed in warm sunlight. Blue eyes held brown ones and his features softened.

“Good morning,” he said with a nod and a smile. She mirrored the motion and Thorin stepped inside so the rest of the company behind him could trail in for breakfast.

 

* * *

 

Thorin was finally well enough in a few days for them to resume their journey. Beorn agreed to lend them ponies until they reached Mirkwood and supplied them with new packs and provisions. He had no fine weapons himself, but let them pick through a stash he had kept from goblins or various other intruders who had threatened his land.

They migrated across the uneven ground that covered a great deal of the expanse between the mountains and the dreary Mirkwood, leading their ponies over the flattest, grassiest ground they could find. Some days, the relentless wind would blow heat at the ponies and tire them out and other days it would berate them with dreadful rain. After near a month, Din hoped Beorn would not need his ponies back soon, as there was still no sign of their destination. It was more weeks still before a dark cloud came into view, stretching across the horizon. As they drew nearer, she realized it was not actually a cloud, but an expanse of dark, gloomy trees. Mirkwood.


	14. Chapter 14

The sun had sunk below the mountain tops by the time they reached the forest's edge. The trunks of the trees were thick and gnarled, with dark vines crawling up them and along the ground. Even the ground around the trees had a grey hue to it. All in all, the forest looked . . . sickly and rotten. Din eyed it warily. Even stoic Dwalin appeared unnerved at the prospect of journeying through it.

They set up a quick camp to sleep for the night. As there was no time to hunt for a deer or rabbits as they had been doing to save their supplies, they munched on some of the dried fruits and bread Beorn had provided them with. Din slept restlessly that night, overwhelmed by a feeling that the forest was watching her. She heard other stirring around her, as well. Nevertheless, as soon as the sun rose they started unpacking the ponies to send them back to Beorn.

A sadness swept her as she petted her pony's ebony mane. She had neglected naming this one, as she did not want to become attached to it. It looked very much like Shaylee, the horse she had lost when all their ponies were frightened away back before the first orc attack. Was Shaylee still alive somewhere in the wilds, or had years of being given everything left her unprepared to fend for herself?

“Din,” said Gandalf at her side, pulling her from her reverie. She looked up at him questioningly and found a concerned expression engraved in his aging face. “I did not want to worry you last night, lest it take away from your sleep, but I must now warn you about this forest. A danger may lie within it; a danger bound to your stone.”

“What sort of danger?” she asked apprehensively

He leaned an arm on the horse’s flank as he stooped and lowered his voice. “Inside these woods there may lie an enemy to any who possess either of the lost Silmarils. Ever since Melkor stole the Silmarils and fled here, Fëanor and his sons vowed to retrieve them. They came here with elves who were loyal to them, calling themselves the Noldor. Most of his sons are dead, now, but if any of the Noldor are are still resolute in their oath, I fear that this would be an excellent place for them to hide. Before, you were safe in the mountains of Erid Luin and no elves would have ventured so close to dwarven territory, but if any Noldor dwell within this forest, they will sense the Silmaril and they will find you.”

Din did her best not to look intimidated. “But, you will be with us, so if any of these Noldor are in there, you will be able to help.”

Gandalf’s bushy eyebrows seemed to droop as his expression dimmed. “I had prepared to handle it myself, but we took longer to reach this point than I anticipated. I am afraid this is as far as I can accompany your journey.”

Din's nerves tensed as he spoke and she gaped at his last words. “You're leaving us now?” Her words came out louder than she had intended and caught the attentions of Dori and Ori.

“What? You’re leavin’?” asked Ori. The young dwarf’s eyes widened and his voice rose an octave as he spoke. The rest of the company was now aware and gathered around.

“We have come this far,” said Thorin gruffly. “You cannot just leave.”

Gandalf matched Thorin’s glare. “I warned you that I did not know how long I would be able to accompany you.” Din wove her trembling fingers together. He had told them from the beginning that he would not be able to take them the entire way, but fear gripped her gut when she looked at the forest once more. How far would they get without him? And what would she do if she was discovered by one of these “Noldor”?

“Y-you’re leaving?” Bilbo stammered appearing at Gandalf’s side. Gandalf placed a reassuring hand on the hobbit’s small shoulder.

“Do not worry, Master Baggins, you will find your courage.”

“What is so important that it can wait no longer?” Thorin folded his arms tightly over his broad chest.

“There is more evil in the world than your dragon, Thorin Oakenshield, and I must concern myself with all of it. There are still fifteen of you, which is more than I originally recommended, anyway. Look out for one another and you will be fine. With luck, I will return before your journey’s end, but for now, I must bid you farewell. And Din,” his grey eyes leveled on her and she felt her face reddened as the others attentions shifted to her as well. He lowered his voice once more so only she could hear. “No one with wicked intentions will be able to touch the stone. Trust your instincts and you will be safe.”

With that, Gandalf hoisted himself atop his horse. He and the majestic beast towered over them as he bid them adieu and made haste for the south.

The path was not wide enough to allow them to move in anything more than single file. Little light seeped through the tall, sickly trees but Din didn't dare use the Silmaril to light their way. When prompted, she'd muttered something about not wanted to give away their position to the beasts of the forest, but mostly she was afraid that using the stone would make it easier for the Noldor elves to sense. How close would she need to get before they could sense the stone? Did they already feel the Silmaril's presence in this forest?

Gandalf had said that no one with wicked intentions would be able to touch the stone, but what if the intentions of the Noldor were not considered wicked? They were fulfilling an oath, after all, and if anyone could see the importance of loyalty, a dwarf certainly could. Thoughts of this unknown enemy were soon driven from her mind as she listened to critters skittering around the trees and scuttling through the underbrush. At first, these reminded her of life outside the forest, but as they trudged on these shufflings started to make her uneasy, feeling as if they were being constantly watched and followed.

If they had thought it was dark in the forest during the day, it was unbearably dark at night, even to dwarves who were used to living in the dark. During her watch shifts, Din would catch glimpses of animal eyes reflecting at her through the seemingly endless darkness. They had abandoned all thought of setting watch fires as it only drew countless more eyes to them, and the other dwarves now echoed Din's insistence not to use the light of her gem.

As days pressed on, she missed daylight more than anything. She even missed the feel of that dreadful wind and rain on her face. Time started to have less and less meaning as they moved farther and farther in. Sometimes they would settle in for the night only to realize that it was not night at all, simply a particularly dense area of the wood. In these instances, Din had no choice but to light their way. Being in the lead made her anxious, afraid that she would lead them astray, but Thorin would walk closely behind her, making her feel at least a little safer as she tried to ignore the hundreds of glowing eyes that spied on them.

She hated the screams most of all. The first time they had heard it they had banded close together with weapons drawn and called out to the woman. If they could draw her to them, they could protect her. But when the shrill sound kept repeating, Din had illuminated the trees until they found a fat, ragged, brown owl with a beak as wide as its head perched up on a branch, mimicking the sound of a woman's scream. They had all awkwardly laughed it off, but Din still jumped every time one such bird let out a blood-curdling shriek.

Days, weeks; she wouldn't have been able to tell the difference and the forest seemed endless. Their food would not last forever, she mused anxiously in what she believed to be dim midday light. It was already starting to run low and they had all but run out of water. Kili had managed to shoot one of the little black squirrels that scampered around, but the scrawny thing tasted horrid. So, hungry and thirsty, they pressed ever on. It was now, it seemed, that the cruelty of the forest brought them to a little river.

If Beorn had not warned them of the sleeping enchantment of the river of Mirkwood, they would have refilled their empty water-skins with even this black water. Personally, Din would have liked to wash the sweat and mud that seemed to cover her skin. But, taking his heed to heart, they searched the banks only for a way to cross. It wasn't terribly wide or deep, but still too wide to leap to the other side.

“Over here!” Bilbo called out as loudly as he dared. They gathered round a scraggly looking mass of thick branches of a fallen tree that stretched across to the other side.

“Are you sure it's safe? It doesn't look that sturdy,” Din said at his side.

“Bilbo, head across first,” Thorin said thumping him on the back. “You are the lightest amongst us so we will see if it will support your weight.” Bilbo looked like he wanted to argue, but consented and started out across the branches. Din watched his every step intently, afraid that it would break and he would be sent into the enchanted water. But he reached the other side unharmed and called across to reassure them.

The rest ventured across in small groups. First Fili, Balin, and Ori, then Oin and Dori followed by Gloin and Nori. Din crossed with Kili and Bofur, then Bifur and Bombur followed closely by Dwalin and Thorin in the back. They were nearly across, but the branch Bombur chose, as thick as it was, apparently could not hold him. It cracked off under his weight and he plummeted into the murky water.

The enchantment acted quickly. Almost instantly, Bombur was snoring loudly. It took forever for them to pull him across by his arms and both Dwalin and Thorin nearly fell in themselves as they dragged him along. Once he was close enough, Oin, Gloin, and Dori helped heave him onto shore. Oin quickly checked him over to make sure he was otherwise unharmed. Once they were sure he was alright, they did what they could to wake him. But no matter how they nudged, shook, or slapped, he did not stir.

“Now what?” asked Nori. “We leave him here?” Din gaped in horror.

“Absolutely not,” argued Bofur and Bifur. “If he stays, we stay.”

Old Balin lifted a hand to quell their arguing. “We don't know how long the enchantment will last, but we can rest here for the night in hopes that he will wake in the morning,” he stated. He absently stroked his long white beard in thought. “If the enchantment still lingers then, I say we fasten some of our bedrolls to some hardy branches and take turns carrying him two at a time.” With barely contained grumbles at the prospect, they started settling in for some unlikely sleep.

 

* * *

 

 

The company was in a foul mood, what with having to carry big Bombur and the low state their food supplies were in. Din, in an attempt to raise their spirits, tried to cook a little something with another of the little black squirrels and some herbs from the forest she felt might be safe, but even her skill was not enough to make them edible.

What felt like weeks but was likely days passed and they came to an area of the forest where the trees weren't quite as tall and allowed in more light. They reveled in each beam of sunlight, though it seemed an odd green color in this part of the forest, surrounding them in an odd green light. They had hoped they might be getting close to the end, but the grey trunks went on for what seemed like forever on either side of them.

They had lost the path. None could say for sure when it had happened. They knew only that they could not find it again.

“Someone needs to climb to the top of the trees to get a vantage point and find what direction we need to go,” said Bilbo. Dwarven eyes all turned to Bilbo, who sank a little.

“I can come, too, if you'd like,” Din offered. They took no time to discuss it and she was hoisted into a tree with low hanging branches after Bilbo. She had no practice climbing trees save for when they'd done so to escape the wargs, but now that her life was not in danger, she found it rather exhilarating. Higher and higher they climbed and she could see all about them. As they neared the top, however, she had to be more attentive to which branches she chose. Several had snapped when she tried to put her weight on them.

Finally, they reached the canopy of leaves at the top and poked their heads through. Sunlight blinded them and they had to squint until their vision could adjust. When it did, Din was surprised to see that the leaves of the trees, which down below looked to be dark and colorless, were a bright auburn up top. Thousands of brilliant blue butterflies had taken flight when they'd breached the leaves and now fluttered about.

“Wow,” was all she could think to say.

“It's beautiful,” Bilbo echoed beside her. They laughed at the idea of calling anything about this forest beautiful. As they were sent to do, they looked around to see if they could find the end of the forest. Din gasped and pointed north where a tall mountain stood as a spire over the land.

“The lonely mountain.” It was certainly much closer than it had been.

“We're going the right way!” Bilbo called down to the others. A gleeful laugh accompanied his words as he was unable to contain his joy at the thought of leaving this wretched forest behind. When no response came, he tried again. Still, nothing. They looked at each other, mirroring an expression of growing concern. Why wouldn't they answer? Bilbo's eyes widened as he looked behind her and she spun to see what was wrong. Something was shaking the trees like a tempest. Something big. And it was heading straight for them.

They peeked below the leaves to find a horde of enormous spiders coming their way. On instinct, they tried to backpedal and both their branches gave way.


	15. Chapter 15

Try as she might, Din couldn’t grab hold of a branch without snapping it. They caught her plenty, though, their jagged edges leaving scrapes on her cheeks and rips in her clothing. Fearful anticipation held her screams in as she waited to collide with the ground. At this speed from the height they had been at, it would certainly be a fatal fall. But when the moment finally came and her back hit something, rather than splat into the dirt, she sank into a sticky net. No, not a net, she realized. A web. It would seem that what she had previously thought was light peaking through the trees was actually a wide network of white silken webs. It only made sense that enormous spiders would make webs of equal scale.

Both she and Bilbo tried desperately to pry themselves from the sticky mess. Her mind raced for a solution. They certainly would not want to be here when the spiders reached them, and given the sounds in the trees above, they were getting close. After several moments, which was still too long for comfort, she managed to rip her right arm free and reached for her sword. She pulled it from it’s sheath and tried to empty her mind as Gandalf had taught her. Just as she had done when she had learned to dim the Silmaril’s light, she tried to imagine the energy from the stone in her pocket reaching through her to her sword.

A moment of glee swelled in her chest when she opened her eyes. Her sword was glowing, a vibrant streak of starlight in this dark forest. In her peripheral she saw the spiders crawling down the trees toward them. She didn’t stop to count how many. With her blazing sword she was able to cleave through the webbing as if it were no more than water. The fresh edges sinjed and shrunk from the heat of the blade and she and Bilbo were released from its grasp.

Din grabbed hold of Bilbo’s wrist as they started to fall and gripped her sword with her teeth to free her other hand. This time she managed to get a firm grip of a branch now that they were thicker and could support her momentum. She bit down on the blade at a familiar wrenching pain in her shoulder as the weight of another pulled on it. Except this time it was Bilbo, who was definitely lighter than Kili. She waited for him to get his footing on a branch below before releasing him and then carefully hopped down to a branch beside his.

“What do we do?” she whispered. She sheathed her blade so its glow would not give them away. His grey eyes reflected the same panic she felt.

“I-I don’t know.” His attention focused on something behind her and she spun to see what it was. Near twenty feet away and fifteen feet down, she spotted web sacks dangling from some of the trees. Her heart stopped. So that was why the others hadn’t answered.

“We need to set them loose,” she said turning back to Bilbo. An empty tree answered her and she felt her eyes bug. “Bilbo?” She whirled around, looking both above and below, but found no sign of him. Terror set in. Had he left her to fend for herself? And how had he gotten out of sight so quickly?

Branches above her crackled and complained under heavy weight. The spiders were drawing in on her position. She could think of nothing to do. She couldn’t outrun them, even by hop-skipping down branches, and the fall was still to high for her to just jump the rest of the way. And she definitely couldn’t fight them all. Bark bit into her back as she pressed against the trunk of the tree, unable to come up with a solution.

Just then, something cracked loudly through the branches of a tree some yards off. It was too small to be Bilbo falling out of a tree, but had he thrown something to draw them off? The rustling above her stopped. She held her breath. As if by a miracle, the monsters decided to chase after the sound. Din nearly breathed a sigh of relief when one spider dropped down on the tree across from where Bilbo had been crouching. For a heartbeat, it stared at her. Then it charged. She drew her sword again, ready to strike.

The spider made an odd sound and spun sharply around. Dark goo oozed from a slice in its thorax. Where had that come from? Bewilderment confounded her mind as an invisible force cut one of the spider’s front legs off. All she could do was watch the bizarrity of it. The spider flailed in pain and then a small figure suddenly appeared on a branch behind it.

“B-Bilbo?” Din gaped. The hobbit sank his elven blade deep into the spider’s face and the beast curled its legs in on itself. Its lifeless carcass fell from the tree and Bilbo watched its descent, oblivious to Din staring at him. When he did meet her eye, he smiled sheepishly.

“Later,” he said. “I’ll go cut the others loose and you head down to help get them out of the sacks.” Before she could protest to the recklessness of his plan by refusing to let him go alone, he slipped a gold ring onto his middle finger and literally vanished before her eyes. For a moment, all she could do was sit on her branch in a daze. “Go!”

Bilbo’s whisper brought her back and she quickly sheathed her sword once more. She tried to climb down as quietly as she could, the rough bark biting into her hands each time she swung down to the branch below. Once she was low enough, she dropped to the ground. Even though she knew it was dead, she gave the spider cadaver a wide berth as if it might jump up and eat her whole. She couldn’t see the web sacks from down below as they were hidden above more webs, but she estimated the right spot and hid beneath a tree so none would fall on her.

The anticipation of waiting nearly killed her until, finally, two sacs dropped into the web above her. Still, it did not break. One more also was not enough weight, but when a fourth web-cloaked dwarf fell into it, it ripped free. They thudded into the underbrush harder than she would have liked and started wriggling to get free. Din sprinted for them.

“Hold still, I’ll cut you out,” she whispered. They stopped moving. She pulled the little knife from the back of her belt, ignoring the sticky web that still clung to the hilt, and carefully cut her friend loose. It was Dwalin, as she discovered, when his large hands started prying the sticky stuff off of him and revealed the tattooed top of his head. She found Dori in the next, and Oin in the one after him. The last was so round that it could only be one dwarf. Once he was free, she hugged Bombur tightly.

“Thank ye, lass,” Dwalin said patting her shoulder. She gave a smile and a shaky nod and looked up to see if Bilbo had found any others.

“Can you catch them?” she asked. The other dwarves moved into position to do so as one descended toward them. Once their comrade was firmly in their arms, they set him down and Din cut him out; Fili this time. One by one they came, each joining to help catch the others except for poor old Balin, who obviously needed a rest. Din felt her heart give a happy flutter when she cut one of the sacks open and found Thorin inside. He frantically jumped to his feet, pulling the sticky silk from his arms.

“Who is up there?” he asked gruffly.

“Bilbo,” she answered. He looked down at her disbelievingly and the others gaped as well. Apparently while they knew someone had to be cutting them down, they hadn’t really considered who it was.

“I think this is all of us,” said Nori after Din cut Ori free of his cocoon. “Except the hobbit, o’ course.” They didn’t have time to celebrate their victory. The rest of the spiders were returning, having abandoned their chase of a prey that did not exist. Din drew her sword as the others did and readied herself for the onslaught. She was kept once again in the middle, but accepted that they wanted to protect her. Dwalin made the first kill as a lonely spider leaped through the brush. After the group dispatched a few more lone arachnids, the horde arrived. All at once, it seemed, each had a beast of their own to deal with.

Din blazed her sword anew, growing accustomed to the process, and cleaved into the side of the head of the spider that prepared to pounce on Gloin from behind. As she was smaller than the other dwarves, it was easy enough to weave around them, slicing off the segmented limbs of the monstrous insects she passed to give her allies an advantage over them. She saw one pounce on Fili and climbed onto one of the dead spiders for upper ground. She then leaped onto it's back, sinking her blade into its thorax. It reared and she held fast to the handle of her blade for support until the thing stumbled over. She looked back to see Fili rip his blade from its fanged mouth. One by one the arthropods were slain until the dwarves found a moment of reprieve.

“This way.” Thorin lead them out of their little clearing. They filed after him to find a place that would be more difficult for the spiders to surrounded them in. “Ready, ready!” Thorin shouted in Khuzdûl. He halted as more spiders found them. Before they could begin their attack, however, Din heard arrows whistling through the air.

“Oh no,” she whispered to herself. As the spiders fell around them, she quickly dimmed her blade praying none of the elves had seen it from their distance. Thorin grabbed her around the middle and spun her around him so that she was once again surrounded by a barricade of dwarven backs. Up in the trees, a multitude of figures rained down by leaping off the trees’ limbs or expertly swinging down spider webs, their long hair of various shades whisping around them. Countless bows were drawn on the dwarves and none dared to move.

Now that the fight was over, the screams of young Kili were heard off in the distance and Din’s heart stopped. How had none of them noticed him fall behind? No doubt one of the spiders had grabbed him and now he was fighting off who knows how many on his own. Thorin made a move in the direction the screams came from with every intent of saving his nephew when a drawn arrow leveled on his face several feet away. The tall elf stepped closer glaring down at Thorin in disdain. His dark eyebrows contrasted sharply against his nearly white hair and showed every pinch of his angry brow.

“Do not think I will not kill you, dwarf,” the flaxen elf spat.

“Kili!” Fili shouted, desperate to help his brother. The elves prevented the dwarves from trying to aid their kin until what sounded like fighting could be heard in the distance. After what seemed like an age, a red-headed elven lass nudged Kili through a bundle of trees and into the group with the others. Kili was fixed on her as she stepped away to speak with the elf who had drawn on Thorin. It would seem the blond elf was the leader of this troop.

The rest of the dwarves started begrudgingly handing over their weapons to their captors and Din unfastened the goblin blade from her waist and pulled the knife from the back of her belt, relinquishing them to an elf with nut brown hair. His hazel eyes fixed on her and she held her hands up to show they were empty.

“That’s all I have, I swear it.” After another moment of lingering on her, he moved on. Over by the elf leader, the red headed maid narrowed in on her. Confusion muddled her infuriatingly perfect face and she said something to the blond. He turned in Din’s direction.

“A dwarven-maid? I did not think any actually existed,” said the elf as he moved closer. Up close she could see the dim blue color of his eyes beneath his dark brows.

Din tensed, dread spreading through her small figure. Elrond had been kind enough to keep her existence a secret. It was less likely these elves would do the same, given their hostility. “No, I am a hobbit of the Shire. I came only to prepare the food for their journey,” she said stubbornly.

“Is that so?” The elf’s blue eyes narrowed on her and he stepped closer. Several hands pulled her backward and Thorin stepped between her and the elf. Despite being a considerable amount shorter, Thorin held his ground and was unwilling to budge. Bifur stood close beside Din and Bombur’s large hands clamped onto her shoulders from behind. She gripped Bofur’s arm on her other side in hopes that doing so would stop her fingers from shaking. Was this elf one of Faenor’s Noldor Gandalf had warned her about? Were they all Noldor? She suddenly regretted having kept Gandalf’s warning to herself.

The ginger elf-maid at the leader’s side tried unsuccessfully to hide the surprise on her face. What she was surprised about, Din did not know. But the way she glanced between Din and her uncles and cousin seemed to suggest she had not expected such a familial bond between dwarves.

“Even if I did believe that you were a halfling, which I do not,” the blond elf said still watching her over Thorin’s shoulder. “Your fellow dwarves would not protect a halfling as one of their own.” His attention was pulled away when one of his comrades handed him Thorin’s elven blade. The elf studied it, speaking fondly in what Din assumed was elvish. Then he returned his glare to Thorin. “From who did you take this?”

“It was given to me,” Thorin answered irritably. The elf’s lips twitched into a frown.

“A thief and a liar.” The elf shouted something else in elvish and the dwarves were pushed into single file to march through the forest.

Din swiveled her head to look at Bofur behind her. “What about Bilbo?” She whispered. His brown eyes widened as if just remembering the hobbit was not with them. Din could only hope Bilbo was somewhere in the woods, hiding in the safety of his ring rather than having been eaten by spiders.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: For those who haven’t read the book, the company was held for two weeks in Thranduil’s prison, so I lengthened it compared to the movie.

Despite the animosity the elves clearly felt toward the company they had captured, they seemed determined to keep their prisoners alive. They rested for food long hours after their arrest and a hunk of bread and meat were placed before Din. It was obvious that they were being given the burnt parts of bread or the chewiest parts of the meat, but still it made her mouth water. Her stomach ached for every scrap, but somewhere out there, she prayed, Bilbo was following their troop in his invisibility. So, she saved half and hid it in her coat pockets. She leaned closer to Kili at her right.

“Do you know if we're we aloud, erm, restroom breaks?” She asked. It seemed he couldn't help a smirk that quirked at the corner of his mouth, but before he could answer, one of the elves called over. Blasted elf-hearing. It was the blond elf with the out-of-place dark eyebrows with the seemingly ever-present scowl etched into his ivory face.

“You should all do so before we leave. You can go first.” He motioned for another elf to accompany her and the red-headed female rose to her feet. As Din pushed herself up, she noticed Kili's glance lingering on the elf-maid. It would seem that, despite what he had said back at Rivendell was not true; elven women were his type. The idea made her uncomfortable. Attractive or not, elves and dwarves didn't mingle, let along mingle. It was unheard of. And besides, she was one of the elves holding them prisoner.

The elf maid lingered several paces behind Din, keeping an eye on her. The light from the elf's torch reached just far enough that Din could see a few inches in front of her. As the little dwarf trudged along, she whistled quietly to herself. Hopefully Bilbo would take the hint and follow, otherwise the food would go to waste.

“This is far enough, dwarf,” the elf's silken voice drifted up to her. So she really hadn't been fooling any of them. Din turned to face her and gave a polite, albeit stiff smile.

“Would you mind if I went behind a tree?” she asked. The elf glanced around as if checking for anywhere the dwarf could sneak off to once she was out of sight. Finally, she nodded her consent. Din scuttled around the side of one of the wide trees until she was out of view. A large rock sat huddled against the tree's bark and Din quickly emptied the meat and bread she had saved from her pockets. She would continue to do save food for Bilbo so the poor hobbit wouldn't starve all by himself.

“I have a name, you know. You need not call me 'dwarf',” she called out around the berth of the tree. “My name is Din.”

There was a long pause while Din did her business. She had finished fastening her sash when a response came. “I am Tauriel.” Din stumbled through the dark back around the tree and gazed up at the tall elf-maid. When Tauriel made no move to head back to the encampment, confusion made Din scrunch her brows.

“What is it? I'm unarmed, I promise.” She held up her empty hands as proof.

“It's not that, I just . . . you're different than I imagined.” Tauriel's eyes were alight with curiosity as she studied the little dwarf. It was the same curiosity Din had worn before coming into this dreadful forest. The world was still so new to her. An obvious realization brought a pinkness to Din's cheeks. She was the first female dwarf the elf had seen and the elf was staring at her bare face. “What about the beard?”

“Oh,” Din touched her smooth cheek. “That. Most dwarf-women have them. Unfortunately, I do not.” She hoped that, since dwarf women all carried fake beards with them just in case, so in a sense they all had beards, the elf's intuition would not catch the small fib. To sell it, Din made a show of looking glum about not having one. This was not truly a lie, either. It was truly unfortunate that she had lost hers as it would have been very useful. As it was, she was jeopardizing the secrecy of all the other dwarf-women.

Fortunately, Tauriel seemed to accept her answer. Maybe she would even pass it along to the other elves and Din's blunder would be somewhat remedied. She moved to step around the tall maid to head back to camp but hesitated. “May I ask you a question?” Tauriel gave a tentative nod. “What have we done to deserve imprisonment? I have only met elves once before, but they seemed plenty hospitable.”

The elf's green eyes moved to the dark trees around them. “Can you truly tell me that a group of strange elves would be welcome in your hold? We do not possess the luxury of trust here, young dwarf. In some corners of the world, your kind might not be viewed so suspiciously, but here we cannot take the chance. We will take you to see our king and he will decide where to go from here.”

“I see.” Din bobbed her head in glum understanding. It was true that elves were only allowed into Erid Luin under heavy guard, but why did elves and dwarves mistrust each other so deeply? Was it just due to the differences in their culture, or were there deep wounds that still festered from long ago that none completely remembered, but still clung to? It was a culmination of the two, she imagined. With nothing left to say, she pressed on to camp. The rest of the company was packing up to leave when they returned.

 

* * *

 

 

The elven realm was hidden in a low part of the forest. Although the trees still stood as spires above them, the air was less oppressive and light came through the leaves easier. She also had not heard any of those retched screaming birds since the night of their imprisonment days ago. Din tried not to hope, but could it be they were nearing the edge of the forest? Of course, being imprisoned by elves would set their journey back for the foreseeable future.

Din had no idea what elven structures here looked like, as the dwarves had now been blindfolded to keep the home of the elves a secret. Not that any of the dwarves would have been able to find it again, even if they had wanted to. One does not generally visit the bear's hostile den more than once. What Din could gather from their surroundings was that they were near water. Hopefully it was not the same water that had sent uncle Bombur into his slumber.

She heard the rushing below her as they were lead across what was likely a stone bridge. It was a refreshing change from the ever-sopping underbrush of the forest. She reveled at the feel of solid ground beneath her feet. Further familiarity eased her as they were unmistakably lead into the bowels of a mountain. Footsteps echoed around her and she could imagine that she was back home clumping through the tunnels with the other dwarf-women instead of in the custody of contentious elves.

An odd clanking of metal soon resounded through the tunnel and her comrades started to complain as they were pushed around. When Din was pushed forward and metal clanged behind her, she lowered her blindfold. She was in a cell. Looking out, she could see Gloin, Balin, Kili, Fili, Nori, Ori, and Bifur in cells across a black chasm. The elves left without a word, scampering across narrow walkways with an obnoxious elegant grace.

When she was certain they would be too far away, Din wove her fingers around the cold metal bars. She wasn't sure what their feelings were about prisoners, speaking, but she didn't want to take the chance. “Are you all alright?” She asked the company all at once. A murmur of confirmation accompanied the inquiry. While it was unlikely that any of the dwarves had been separated, she could only see half of them. “We should count ourselves to be certain we are all here. I see Bifur, Ori, Nori, Gloin, Balin, Fili and Kili. Who is on this side?”

“Dwalin here,” the brutish dwarf called from a distance to her left.

“Bofur, over here, Deary,” her uncle said somewhere to her right.

“And Bombur.” Several cells to the left.

“Dori.” Also left, on the other side of Bombur.

“Oin.” Right, closer than Bofur.

“And Thorin.” Left, beside her cell.

“Oh good, that's all of us,” said Bombur. Din heaved a sigh of relief and lowered herself to the cold rocky floor. Until then, she had not noticed just how tired she was. The light of the torches outside the cell gave her just enough light to take In her surroundings. Looking around the small space, there was no bedroll or even a chair. The only thing she saw was a wooden bucket. Lovely.

 

* * *

 

 

Over the next three days, Thorin was taken every evening to speak with the elf king, Thranduil. Din hadn't realized, but these were the same elves who had refused to aid the Lonely Mountain when Smaug attacked. As such, Thorin and Thranduil were thus far incapable of coming to a resolution.

In the late hours of the night, Din could hear the other dwarves snoring. Despite how exhausted she was, sleep would not visit her. She stirred on the rocky floor, trying to get comfortable. The legs of her boots were tucked under her head as a make-shift pillow since she was unwilling to remove her coat in this freezing cell. But it seemed that no matter how she lay, the hard floor started to make one part of her body or another tingle painfully.

“Can't sleep?” Thorin's deep tone echoed around the tunnel.

“It would seem not,” she answered. “At least we won't be eaten by anything in here. Even if the elves were so inclined, they'd probably think we were too spicy.”

Thorin's laugh was a deep rumble. “Or we'd be too tough for those pearls they call teeth to chew.” Din started to laugh and couldn't seem to stop once she had. It had been so long since she had done so that the feeling kept growing in her chest. She tried to laugh as quietly as she could so she would not wake the others, but only when her air supply ran low did she stop. She took a few deep breaths.

“I don't know where that came from, but oh, does it feel good to laugh like that again.”

“You haven't laughed so much since Ered Luin.” There was a long pause before he spoke again. “I am sorry for the way things turned out. I never wanted you to be in harm’s way. No doubt you regret coming along, now.”A sadness in his voice brought a tightness to her chest. She thought about his words and surprisingly felt little regret.

“No, I do not,” she said quietly. “It's true that our journey has been more dangerous than I ever could have imagined, but I have also seen more in the last—what is it, ten months?—than I have seen my entire life.”

“I never realized how much you wanted to see the world.”

“Uncle Bombur always brought me books of distant lands. Stories of brave people willing to sacrifice what they could to fight off the darkness in the world. I always dreamed about doing the same.”

“That is why you always humored Fili and Kili when they wanted to play in the mines, then.”

Din chuckled. “We slew the Balrog Gothmog several dozen times over. We even killed the goblin king once or twice, I believe. But I never imagined I would actually end up fighting goblins or trolls or any of this. And aside from this accursed forest, the world is more beautiful than I ever imagined. Of all the places you've seen, which is your favorite?”

“For as long as I can remember, I’ve only ever thought of returning to the Lonely Mountain. I’ve spent my days hunting down any possibility that could get us into that mountain. But, over the last few years, I’ve found myself looking for excuses to return to Ered Luin. To see my family. To see my friends. To see you.” Din opened her mouth to speak, but couldn’t seem to settle on any words.

A shadow moved onto the wall of her cell and she pushed up to her elbows. The blond elf from the forest peered down at her. “Get up. My king wants an audience with you.” Din frowned but did as he said. The elf reached through the bars to bind her hands together with a rope and then unlocked the door to let her out.

“What does he want with her?” Thorin demanded. Din met his grey-blue eyes with a frown.

“It will be alright.” Her words rang hollow, for she was uncertain how these elves treated outsiders. Thorin continued to glare at the elf.

“Let me come.”

The elf's flaxen hair hung as a curtain and he made no move to glance around it at Throin. “No. He will speak to her alone.” He held Din's arm in a painful grip and lead her away, through their narrow tunnels. More than once, she nearly tripped and fell from the path and was actually glad he had such a firm grip. The tunnels wove unnecessarily and Din was beginning to worry that she was instead being lead somewhere to be . . . pressed for information when finally he dragged her into a spacious room. Stairs lead up to a platform overlooked by a throne of intricate winding elm wood.

Upon the throne was a tall elf in a long green gown. His blond hair sharply contrasted his dark eyebrows and Din glanced up at the elf at her side. Could they be related? The elf on the throne stood and Din realized an elegant crown of wood encircled the back of his head. Rather than making him look like a king, she thought it gave him a vengeful, unrelenting air.

His gaze fixed on her as he stepped down the steps that elevated his throne from the platform. “Thank you, Legolas.” The blond elf at her side, apparently “Legolas”, gave a brief nod and stepped back. Thranduil clasped his hands together behind his back. “I am sorry for the squalor we have left you in. I have only just been informed of your presence with the dwarves and I would be remiss if I left a young woman, even a dwarf-woman, to sleep in a cell. I have had a room arranged for you for the remainder of your stay.”

She refused to believe for a moment that he had been unaware that one of the dwarves was female. No doubt his trusty lieutenant had informed him when they arrived. No, there was certainly a plot afoot. If she was separated from the others, there was no telling what the dwarves would think. And that, she realized, was the point. Din glowered up at the elven king, not fooled by his honeyed words.

“Do you think me a fool? You care not that I am a woman at all and making me comfortable is probably just to ease your conscious. You want my friends to think I’m being mistreated so they will comply to you. Well, I won't play your game. I refuse to be used like this so you might as well just return me to my cell.”

Thranduil's facade fell away and he whirled on her with surprising speed. He towered over her and despite herself, she sank back under the hate of his glare. “If you prefer we not lie to them, I could have something arranged for you. Either way, you will not be returning to your dwarves until they agree to return what was taken from me.”

He made a gesture to Legolas, whose hand returned to her arm. He pulled her toward the door as Thranduil turned away from them. Din felt anger bubble in her chest and she began to speak before she could stop herself. "Go ahead and play your game! You will never get what you want so long as you continue to let hatred and greed rule for you." Her words rang out around the hall, but if Thranduil heard her, he gave no sign.


	17. Chapter 17

It had been several days since Din’s meeting with Thranduil. The tiny room she was stashed in was barely larger than her cell. The door, rather than a barred cell door, was thick oak wood with a small barred window near the top. While it was likely eye level for an elf of average height, all she could see through it was the rocky ceiling high above unless she stood against the back wall. And at that point, she was seeing a very small square of the wall outside. The comfort that the short-legged bed and fully lit space provided did little to ease her anxiety over being separated from the others. 

Would Thranduil have one of his elves outright lie to the dwarves and tell them she was being mistreated, or would he make them wonder and fret? Which would be worse? It also worried her that they had yet to hear from Bilbo. Had he been able to sneak past the elves or was he stuck outside in the forest? Had he even survived past the fight with the spiders? She’d only assumed he was following and had left food for him the entire way, but she had no way of knowing if he had found it even if he had followed them.

She paced the short distance of her new cell—because that’s what it was. It might be little nicer than the prison cells, but she was still a prisoner—until she felt her feet might fall off before she finally resigned herself to restless, unwholesome sleep. Out of respect for her friends, who were still sleeping on the cold ground, she began settling down in the corner facing the door where she had slept since her incarceration to this closet-of-a-room, but stopped herself. Stubbornly rejecting the “hospitality” of the bed would do nobody any good. They all needed to get the best rest they could for their eventual escape. Because they would escape. They had come too far for their journey to be brought to an end by a colony of greedy elves. So, reluctantly, she moved to the bed.

There was no way of knowing how much time had passed when she awoke, but a plate of bread, meat, and lettuce had been left for her. How she had missed someone opening the door, she did not know. If past instance was any indication, it had been Tauriel. Din had ignored the elf’s brief visits when she would bring her meals. Crouched once more in the corner facing the door, Din munched on the flavorless food. 

To fill the overwhelming silence, she hummed the melody of the Song of the Lonely Mountain to herself. This song had been sung commonly throughout her childhood, but the most haunting performance of it had been at Bilbo’s house those many moons ago. The deep reverberation of the dwarves’ low timbre had all but rumbled the round hallways.

The higher tones of her humming echoing around the little room seemed hollow in comparison, but it made her feel a little better. When knuckles rapped on the door, she was certain a guard was coming to tell her to shut it, but instead spotted a lovely pale face framed in red hair through the barred window on the door. Din straightened her posture a little in surprise, but did not stand. She had already dropped off the plate. What more business did she have with the dwarf?

“What a lovely voice,” Tauriel complimented.

Din tried to hide a scoff. “Nothing compared to you elven folk.” She made no effort to continue the conversation and the light scuffing of shoes echoed into the room as Tauriel shifted on her feet.

“I was glad to see you making use of the bed, finally.” A glint of sincerity shone in her green eyes, but the stubborn little dwarf looked away, still refusing to engage. The elf sighed audibly and laced her fingers on the bottom frame of the window between the bars. “I thought you would want to know that you’re friends are alright. They were worried at first, but now I suspect that they don’t buy what the guards are telling them.”

So they were lying about her. The anger that swelled in Din’s chest was dampened by the relief of knowing they didn’t believe she was being hurt. “And now that the plan has failed, will I be allowed to return to my former cell? Surely Thranduil will not object to throwing me back into a dark hole with no bed.”

The elven-lass bit her lip. Uncertainty? “You would really prefer that?”

“I would prefer to be near those I love, rather than tucked away here by my lonesome.”

After a tense, hesitant pause, her amber hair bobbed in a nod. “I will see what I can do.”

Before she disappeared, Din asked, “One more thing. Was this your idea? If your friend Legolas is a reference for most of the elves here, I find it difficult to believe that he or any of them would think enough of dwarves to try and play off of our emotions for each other. Preying on greed and pride, certainly. Thranduil tried that plenty with Thorin at first, but of course it didn’t work. But you seemed a bit different. Almost friendly even. If anyone were to notice how much we dwarves care for one another, it would have been you.” The dwarf glared up at the elf-maid, her reverie morphing into resentment.

Surprise widened Tauriel’s eyes and was quickly shadowed by something akin to guilt. “You’re right; it was my idea. My king is not getting his answers, and for all his boasting of patience, he will begin to press for what he wants. If it comes to that, then what we have told your friends will not be lies.” Fervor tightened her expression as the elf gripped the frame of the window tightly with one hand. “I will try to have you moved back to your cell. If he agrees, you must convince Oakenshield to give in to Thranduil’s requests. I fear what will happen if you do not.”

Uneasiness settled over Din as the elf wisped out of view. The hatred that had flashed in Thranduil’s eyes appeared in her mind and she did not doubt that he would be willing to have any number of the dwarves tortured until Thorin surrendered. They needed to get out. But how? Even if she was returned to the prison, they couldn’t exactly come up with a plan. The elves would overhear their mutterings and likely separate them all and then where would they be?

She paced once more, unable to calm her mind. Hours had passed when, finally, the mechanism in the door clanked open and the door was swung wide. Two guards peered down at her and her spirits lifted. Tauriel had at least followed through. The first elf, younger with dark hair and honey-colored eyes that analyzed her for any sign of trouble, stepped forward prepared to clamp irons around her wrists. Din stepped forward carefully and extended her hands to let him when another arm wrapped around to hold the elf still and a shiv was plunged into his neck.

Din shrieked and stumbled back against the wall as the knife was ripped back out, clamping her hands over her mouth in horror. The young elf fell to his knees, confusion and fear muddling in his eyes as he clamped a hand over the blood gushing from his throat to no avail. His traitorous ally shoved him over and the lad slumped against the floor as his life started to slip away.

“What are you doing?” Din asked, her voice quivering in both rage and disbelief.

He moved a strand of his mouse brown hair out of his face with a finger and settled hazel eyes on her. “I am doing nothing. You on the other hand, just murdered this poor young soul in an attempt to escape when we came to transport you. I, being a good and loyal elf, did my duty and put you down to avenge him. However, it is up to you whether your death is quick or agonizing. You carry something that does not belong to you and I am here to take it.” He took several steps further into the little room and shut the door with a kick of his foot.

Din pulled her attention away from the young elf dying on the floor and pushed off the wall to meet her opposer head on. There was only one thing he could be looking for, of course. She leveled him with a glare, clenching her fists. If he was so certain she had it, then Gandalf had been right about their ability to sense the stone. There would be no point in denying that she had it. “You’re one of Fëanor’s Noldor. The stone is not yours to take and I will not give it.”

She didn’t wait for him to advance first. But she’d only thrown her first punch when he grabbed her wrist and spun her around a few times to disorient her. While she had underestimated how easily he would be able to evade her strike, he now underestimated just how much force a dwarf could put into their feet. She thrust her foot out and by some luck landed a kick to his stomach. The impact made him stumble and lose grip of her arm. While he stooped breathing in raspy breaths, Din leaped onto the bed and used what little bounce it provided to hop around him and the now dead elf to the door.

As her fingers wove around the handle, foreign fingers tangled in her hair. She yelped when pain erupted on her scalp as she was yanked backward but at least managed to pull the door open with her. The elf threw her to the ground and she pushed up to a seated position in time for his hand to grasp her neck and he wrenched her back off the floor. He pushed her painfully into the wall and held her there, his grip tightening on her windpipe. Desperately, she clasped her hands to his wrist in an attempt to pry it from her, but to no avail.

At the same moment that she felt a warmth spreading through her arms, he glanced down at her hands in confusion. The change happened quickly. The same glow that had brought her sword to life when she used the stone now heated her hands. It was a pinker hue, rather than white, but didn’t seem to hurt any less. He screamed in pain as he ripped his hand from her grip. Burn marks in the shape of her hands had been left in their absence.

Din gaped down at her hands but forced herself to recover. She stepped closer to him and pulled the stone from her pocket. It glowed with a brighter intensity. If Gandalf had been correct, direct contact with the stone would be worse for him. For one foolish moment, he seemed to think he was getting what he wanted when she pulled his uninjured hand toward her. But when she clamped the stone in his palm, he screamed anew and wrenched his hand away. A dark oval burn was left on his palm.

“Now, every time you look at your hand, you will remember that the Silmaril denied you,” she spat. Livid hazel eyes attempted to burn her with a glare as he unsheathed an elven blade from his back. He was about to advance when a rock floated up and struck him in the head. Din flinched and stepped back as it hit him again and he fell to the floor in a clamor. The rock fell to the floor and Bilbo appeared from thin air as he removed his ring.

Din rushed forward and wrapped her arms around the hobbit.

“Oh,” he muttered in surprise as he tentatively patted her back.

“I feared you might be dead,” she said as she pulled back.

“It would take more than a few spiders.” He puffed his chest out in false bravado and despite her, Din laughed. “It took me a while to realize you were leaving food for me, though. Thank you for that.” They exchanged a smile and then Din glanced down at the two elves on the floor. Despite the truth of what had happened, it would indeed look as if she had attacked them in an attempt to escape.

She returned the now dim gem to her pocket. “We need to go before someone comes to investigate the screaming.”

“Yes,” Bilbo agreed with an emphatic nod.

It was slow moving through the tunnels. Bilbo would scout ahead and signal back to her by tapping on the ground if all was clear. Eventually, though, he lead her to a well lit larder. Din’s heart nearly stopped when she saw two elves at a table, but on closer inspection she realized they were knock-out-drunk. If the wine in their mugs was enough to bring elves to this state of inebriation, she didn’t even want to consider taking so much as a whiff of the stuff.

Bilbo pulled off his ring and nudged her behind several stacks of barrels. “Wait here while I get the others.” There was no time to argue as he disappeared again. Din waited in anxiety for his return, afraid that the elves might recover from their drunken state. After what felt like ages, the not-so-subtle sounds of a troop of dwarves drew nearer until finally they filed into the room.

“Din?” Bofur whispered loudly. She poked her head around the barrels and was almost immediately pulled into a family hug, surrounded in the warmth of Bofur, Bombur, and Bifur. She allowed herself a moment to revel in the joy of their reunion.


	18. Chapter 18

Arthenon gripped his injured hand, shaking in fury. A blackened welt now festered in his palm where the wretch had pressed the Silmaril to it. Healing magic had done little for it, but at the very least he could not feel the burn anymore. It pained him, however, knowing the stone had been so very close. It had literally been in his grasp. How had the dwarf managed to wield its magic so potently? She would pay for this. She would pay for this! He had not waited countless years to hear word of the stone only to find it in the filthy hands of a maggot of the earth.

He kept to a quick pace as he moved down the hall to the throne room. Tauriel was waiting outside, likely to hear word that the prisoner had been transported without trouble. She straightened from the wall at his approach.

“That took longer than I anticipated. Is it done?” she inquired. Arthenon was in no mood to defer to her, despite her title of “Captain of the Guard”, so he strode past to the throne room. King Thranduil and his son turned at his entrance. Their stern expressions shifted to incredulity at the interruption.

“What is this?” Legolas spat.

“The prisoner has escaped. She murdered Fidnor,” Arthenon said. Legolas and the King were taken aback.

“She’s not the only one,” Tauriel said, entering the room behind Arthenon. “I’ve just received word that the other dwarves are gone as well.” Legolas, Arthenon, and Tauriel all looked to Thranduil for instruction.

Anger boiled the King’s expression. “Are you awaiting permission? Go after them! And when you find her, bring her to me!” His voice clamored around the grotto of his throne room like a Stone Giant in the throes of battle and then his cold blue eyes leveled on Arthenon. “Consider this a chance to redeem yourself for allowing her to get away in the first place.”

Though he felt no loyalty for the King of Mirkwood, it would benefit him to uphold pretenses. Once he had the stone, he could return it to King Fëanor’s last living relatives. Then, at long last, his oath would be fulfilled. Perhaps he should send word to the other Noldor who were still faithful to their fallen king. No, he decided. If he returned the Silmaril himself, the reward would be even greater.

He bowed from the room with Tauriel and Legolas. “Is there anywhere in this fortress that they would be able to slip through?”

“No. Fourteen dwarves will be difficult to miss. Aside from the front door and side doors, which are always guarded, the only thing that leaves here is the barrels we send to Lake-Town through the waterway.” As soon as the words left his mouth, the elves exchanged suspicious looks. Simultaneously, they sprinted off along the narrow pathways toward the waterway. As they pattered down the steps, however, they realized they were too late. The trapdoor leading to the waterway sealed itself by weighing itself back into place. The dwarves were in the river.

Legolas and Arthenon dashed up the stairs again as Tauriel lingered for a moment to scold the drunken elves sitting at the table. They must have been “testing” the King’s potent wine. Legolas commanded other elves to follow as they ran past to the side door Legolas had mentioned earlier, which followed along the waterway.

“Shut the gate!” Legolas instructed a dark haired elf in their native tongue. The elf hung back to give the signal for the waterway’s gate to be closed. Arthenon wasted no time running along the bank. He withdrew his bow from his back and as soon as one of the dwarves’ barrels came into view, he let out a shot. But the unpredictable water dipped the dwarf low, saving it from his arrow. Which one was she in? However, before he and the other elves reached the gate, one of the elves atop its stone structure was shot in the back with a crude arrow.

Orcs quickly overran the guards and an even larger horde clamored over the rocky shore on the right of the waterway. While his comrades dealt with the onslaught, Arthenon scoured the barrels for the female dwarf with no luck. She must be underneath the structure, trapped behind the closed gate but also hidden from view. He was so distracted in his search that he did not notice a pair of orcs flanking him. Arrows flew into their necks and Arthenon turned to find Tauriel was his rescuer.

“They’re going nowhere. Forget them for now!” She shouted. He bit back his response with a snarl and turned his attention to the orcs. He had fought many in his long life and found dispatching them a menial task. An arrow to the head here, a knife to the jugular there, the occasional decapitation. It would be faster to use his magic, but he could not risk being discovered here. Not yet.

“They’re getting away!” one of the guards shouted in elvish. Arthenon peered behind him to see a dwarf roll off the platform beside the gate lever. Other dwarves were already tumbling down the river with orcs pursuing them. He pursed his lips. As much as the thought of rescuing them sickened him, he could not allow the orcs to sink the female’s barrel. The stone could be lost again. It would be much easier to pry it from her cold, dead fingers. The other elves seemed to have similar thoughts of reclaiming the prisoners.

The orcs numbers were much thinner now, but they slew more and more of them as they ran along the banks after them. He reached the dwarves in time to see them passing beneath a log that had fallen over the river like a bridge. Orcs covered it, attempting to slay the dwarves as they drifted, but the dwarves split the branch with axes they had likely stolen from dead orcs that had fallen into the river behind the gate.

Arthenon was once again delayed with fighting a slew of orcs that crowded the bank. Where did they keep coming from? He was running low on arrows, so he instead switched to his dual short swords, slicing off orc limbs and heads and deflecting orcish arrows that were sent his way. A good deal in front of him, Legolas was hopping along the dwarves’ heads as if they were stepping stones to cross to the other bank where the last of the orcs now seemed to reside. As he dealt with a handful of them, another sprinted to him from behind brandishing a jagged blade.

Arthenon readied a throwing knife, but before he had the chance to send it flying, an axe flew into the orc’s chest from the river. He gazed down to see a brawny dwarf with long dark hair and a scruffy beard watch as the orc he had just slain fell to the ground. Just then, a head popped out of the last barrel to see what had happened. Her soaked dark hair clung to her neck and face. Both she and the male dwarf spotted Arthenon and for a heartbeat, Arthenon met her burning hazel eyes with hatred of his own.

“Din!” The male dwarf shouted. She dunked below the rim of the barrel just in time to avoid Arthenon’s throwing dagger. Since he stood at an angle above her, the knife became embedded on the inside of the barrel instead of disappearing into the water. He sprinted to catch up to Legolas, but by then, the current had taken the dwarves out of reach. Fury ignited like a furnace within him.

 

* * *

 

 

Din waited until there was no sign of them being pursued by the elves before she finally took the risk of poking her head above the rim of the barrel again. Rocky banks flanked the company with no sign of a place to land. She had grown weary of the swaying motions of the river and felt nauseous every time her barrel collided with a rock and was sent careening in circles. At least the knife that was lodged in the barrel made a useful handle for her to grip.

She was also freezing. While the Silmaril protected her from heat, it seemed to do nothing against cold. If anything, cold temperatures had become even more miserable for her since she started embracing the stone's magic. She periodically checked her pocket for the gem, to be certain it had not fallen out in the barrel. While she had been apprehensive about carrying it when she had learned what it was, Din could no longer imagine being parted from it.

After what felt like hours, the dwarves in the lead finally started paddling their barrels toward a tapered bank. They had lost their weapons in the battle, which would have made for excellent paddles, but several instead used long staves they'd collected from low hanging trees instead. Each flopped onto the shore as soon as they landed, exhausted and in dire need of rest. Din followed suit and crawled clumsily from her barrel the moment it jostled securely against the shore and was struck by a spout of dizziness. She slumped against the rocky ground and pinned her knees to her chest in a useless attempt to quell her shivering. She shut her eyes, reveling in the stability of solid ground. Her entire body felt battered and bruised from being tossed around in the barrel and her stomach continued to churn.

“On your feet. We need to keep moving,” Thorin said. He refused to sit and instead paced around, analyzing their surroundings and probably looking for the best route to take from here.

“Kili is wounded. His leg needs binding.” replied Fili. Din’s eyes opened wide. She had nearly forgotten; Kili had been shot in the leg when he pulled the gate lever. She found him sitting next to the river with Bofur, Oin, and Fili crowded round. They did not need her help to wrap it, so Din got to work wringing her sodden clothing and emptying the water from her shoes, desperate for anything that might warm the ice in her bones.

“The orcs will not be far behind. Bind it, quickly. We keep moving.”

“To where?” Asked Balin. He gripped his sore back and leaned backward in an attempt to stretch it.

“The mountain, of course,” said Bilbo. “We're so close.”

“A lake lies between us and that mountain. We have no way to cross it.”

“Then we go round.” Incredulity crossed Bilbo's face at the simplicity of his solution.

Din grabbed a fistful of her hair and wrung it in her trembling hands. Instead of it's usual dark umber color, the water made it appear black. “W-with what f-food?” Din's chattering teeth made speaking difficult. “B-by the look of it th-that would take at-t least a week and w-we have no weap-pons to catch even a r-rabbit.” She didn't intend to sound irritable, but her words sounded harsh.

“Nevertheless, the orcs would surely catch up to us by the time we reached the mountain and we would have no way to defend ourselves.”

Thorin met their doubtful gazes with the true stubbornness of a dwarf. “We cannot just lie here and die, either. You have two minutes.”

Din decided to use the time resting and resumed her earlier position of folding in on herself on the ground. But try as she might, she could not stop shivering.

“Din?” Bilbo's voice was laden with worry and she looked up in surprise. Was being cold really a reason for such concern? They'd been in the river for hours. If anything, more of them should have been just as cold as her. Bilbo's brows were knotted and his mouth turned down, deepening his thin wrinkles and he crouched to study her.

She drew back uncomfortably. “W-why the f-fuss? I'm j-just cold.”

“I think your skin is blue. Yes, your lips are definitely blue.” He turned to the others and pointed to her frantically. “Is this hypothermia?” Heads swiveled in their direction and Din actually felt her cheeks warm up. After one look at her, Bofur immediately removed his tunic to give it to her but Thorin placed a hand on his arm to stop him.

“More wet clothing would only make it worse. We need to lay some to dry for as long as we can spare.” Din's face heated even more when Thorin pulled his own tunic off, revealing toned, tanned muscles underneath. He and Bofur draped their shirts over large narrow rocks so the water could drain out quicker.

“B-but then y-you'll both b-be cold. Besides, w-why would I h-have hyp-potherm-mia? No o-one else d-does,” she argued. The last thing she wanted under these circumstances was to slow them down.

“Your stone is somehow connected to fire, correct? Perhaps it makes you more susceptible,” Bifur suggested.

"Hypothermia is dangerous, Din. We would much rather be cold for a while than risk losing you," Thorin insisted. She met his blue eyes and her mood dipped. Was it really that dangerous? She had only seen cases a handful of times, in miners who had somehow gotten stranded in the mines for too long. And while those cases had been fatal more often than not, they had also been more severe than her own. Oin crouched in front of her and started checking her vitals for irregularities, but was cut short when fourteen heads peered somewhere over Din's head. She turned to see a human leveling a drawn bow on them. For a tense moment, no one moved.

“Erm, excuse me,” said Balin. He took a tentative step forward with his arms raised to show he was unarmed. “But you are from Lake-Town, are you not? That barge over there, would it be for hire by any chance?” A barge? How had they all missed a barge along the river? Dori, Gloin, and Dwalin, the farthest from the bend in the river, seemed to be of similar thinking and they strained their necks for a glimpse of it.

“Please,” continued Balin. He gestured to Kili and Din. “We have one injured and another with hypothermia. We would be willing to pay good coin for passage into Lake-Town.” He began suggesting prices and cleverly answering the bargeman's questions without revealing the true intention of their journey. After a debate, they came to an agreement and they were allowed passage onto the narrow boat.

Din spent a long time wrapped in the tunics that had dried. One of which had been tied around her head since a lot of heat escapes the body that way and the other she had changed into so she would no longer be sitting in a wet shirt. While both of these helped, her muscles were growing sore from so much shivering. Oin vehemently warned her not to sleep, so she say cuddled between Bofur and Bombur and listened to the group share stories of their previous adventures.


	19. Chapter 19

Within a few hours, Din’s health had greatly improved. She was shivering no more than the others and the nausea and dizziness had faded. The bargeman had lent Thorin and Bofur spare blankets he had stashed on his barge. Though they were thin and barely useful, at least they kept the chilled breeze off their skin. As Din no longer needed their tunics, she quickly changed into her own tunic behind a wall of Bifur, Bofur, and Bombur again and returned the others to their rightful owners.

She did manage to sneak one last glance at the muscles on Thorin’s back ripple along his shoulder blades, but found Kili watching her. A smirk curled his lips causing faint dimples to appear in his cheeks. Din felt herself blush and looked away. She distracted herself by readjusting her tunic to get more comfortable. When Kili plopped down beside her, however, she had a more difficult time hiding her nerves.

“Couldn't help sneaking a last peek?” He muttered. She was grateful that he kept his voice low. She flushed a deeper scarlet but didn't acknowledge his comment, more for a lack of a response than intentional rudeness. “If it helps, I sometimes catch him watching you when you're not looking. I never would have noticed it before the Carrock, but now I have no idea how I haven't seen it all these years. Wow, look at that blush!” he teased gesturing to her face. Din let out an exasperated sigh.

“I thought this made you uncomfortable? None of you have said a word about it,” she snapped irritably.

Kili's expression softened and his mind seemed far away. “I've had recent experience in regards to a union that most would find . . . inappropriate.” He frowned down at his lap and Din felt an uncomfortable twinge.

“You mean . . .” She glanced around to make sure no one was listening and then leaned closer to him. “Tauriel?” Kili shifted nervously and winced. The movement must have hurt his injured leg because he gripped it tightly, some of the color draining from his already pale features. “Are you alright?” she asked.

“Fine,” he said. A false wide smile spread across his face, but before she could question him on it, he shifted the conversation back to Tauriel. “She visited my cell often during our imprisonment. We talked a great deal about our different cultures. I know I haven't known her nearly as long as you've known Uncle Thorin, but I understand where you're coming from, now. As ridiculous as it is, I've never felt this way before.” He rested his head against the rim of the barge, staring up at the sky forlornly.

Guilt settled in Din's gut. What gave her the right to be uncomfortable about the way he felt about Tauriel? She may be an elf, but Din had seen first hand how compassionate and strong she was. Should it matter that she was an elf if they made each other happy? He was no more capable of stopping himself from falling for her than Din had been able to quell her feelings for Thorin all these years. But, just like her, it was not a match the world would readily accept.

Din couldn't help a small laugh and Kili looked at her in confusion. She shook her head in bemusement. “Look at us, setting ourselves up for misery.” Kili chuckled softly.

“I'm glad to see you're feeling better.” Bifur's voice seemed loud against the quiet murmur across the barge. Din smiled at her elder cousin's approach. He sat on a small crate across from her and Kili and clasped his hands together as he leaned forward with his elbows propped on his knees. “Perhaps now would be the time to explain what happened back there?”

“Watch out!” Bofur cried out. Just then, the barge made a sharp turn and Kili and Din gripped what they could to stop from tumbling face-first against the wooden floor. She looked around to see decimated structures of pale stone standing in the water. The boat was narrowly weaving through a maze of what appeared to be the remnants of a city long since destroyed.

“What are you trying to do, drown us?” Thorin glared at the bargeman and was met by an equally hostile glower.

“I was bred and raised on these waters, master dwarf. If I wanted to drown you, I would not do it here.”

Dwalin “Oh, I've had enough of this lippy Lakeman. I say we throw him over the side and be done with it.

Bilbo made an annoyed noise. “Bard, his name is Bard.”

“How do you know?” Bofur asked in bewilderment.

“I asked him,” said Bilbo matter-of-factly.

Dwalin scoffed. “I don't care what he calls himself, I don't like him.”

“We don't have to like him, we simply have to pay him,” said Balin. He was counting stacks of coins and, upon discovering they were a bit shy, a debate began about who was holding out on them. Gloin was the assumption. As Gloin denied the accusations, Nori and Oin rose to their feet, staring in awe at something in the distance. Others followed suit and Din and Kili turned around in confusion. There, through the seemingly impenetrable fog, she spotted the vague outline of the Lonely Mountain towering high in the near distance.

They were so entranced by the shadow of it that they didn't notice a water-logged town coming into view up ahead. “All of you, back in the barrels. There are guards ahead,” Bard ordered. The dwarves resumed their defiant stances and started complaining among themselves, making no move to do so. His brow crinkled irritably. “If you value your freedom, you will do as I say.”

 

* * *

 

 

An hour later, Bard signaled that it was safe by tapping his foot against the side of Din's barrel—because it was closest and probably also because she, like Bilbo, was less likely to thump him over the head with something heavy for doing it. They had told him she was also a hobbit since humans had no special sensitivity to lying like the elves did. The fresh air felt and smelled wonderful when she rose from the depths of her fish-filled barrel. She had remembered to pull the throwing knife from her barrel before the fish had been dumped in and was glad she had done so. Now she had no need to dig through the mass of slimy fish to find it. It was soothing to have at least some kind of weapon on her now that they were once again surrounded by strange people.

Bard lead the company to his home and snuck them in, though Din vowed never to think about the passage they had taken for the rest of her days. Never again would she be able look at a toilet without shuddering. She gratefully accepted the blanket that was offered to her by a small girl. Din sat huddled in one of the four dining room chairs that the other dwarves had insisted she take out of gracious politeness, even though she argued that one of the men should take it since they were older than she. They all huddled around the small house which seemed to consist only of a combined kitchen and living space and a small second floor which likely contained bedrooms.

“You should stay upstairs,” Bard instructed his three children. His daughters nodded and pattered up the old wooden stairs, though the man rested a hand on his son's shoulder as he passed. “Keep an eye on your sisters.” The boy glanced anxiously around the room at the many dwarves huddled in their blankets before scuttling upstairs after the girls. The bargeman turned to the troop that had gathered in his small home. “Wait here while I fetch the weapons I promised.”

“Where exactly do you suspect we would run off to?” Thorin growled. Unlike the rest of the company, he seemed determined to stand. Maybe he felt a king should remain on his feet to show unyielding strength or perhaps he was simply too anxious now that their destination was just out of reach. Bard was absent only a short time when he returned carrying a sopping wet linen tarp that was clearly wrapped around a long bundle of something heavy. He set it on the dining room table and unrolled it as the dwarves approached. Din simply leaned forward, feeling no desire to force her sore legs to move.

Rather than the strong iron-forged weaponry they all expected to find, they instead found altered tools of various sorts tangled together in a mass of wood and weak metal. “How creative,” Din mused to herself as she lifted what appeared to be a hefty blacksmith's hammer with the chain and head of a flail nailed into the other end of it's birch handle. While it was clearly not a particularly sturdy weapon, it would provide maneuverability since it was not as bulky and weighty as the axes normally wielded by the dwarves. The others seemed far less inclined to find the usefulness in the makeshift armory before them.

“What is this?” grumbled Gloin. “We payed you for weapons. Iron-forged swords and axes!”

“You won't find better than this outside the Master's armory. What need have you of such weapons, anyway? I thought you were only venturing to visit your kin in the Iron Hills. I'm not scholar of dwarvish custom, but I was unaware a meeting would require such hostility.”

“Do not mock us,” Dwalin warned. “If there are no weapons for us here then we should just be on our way.”

Bard moved to block the front door. “You cannot leave mid-day. The Master has spies everywhere. Better to wait for the cover of nightfall.” Grumbling, the dwarves moved back to their spots on the floor. Night was not far off, so they would not need to wait long. Din caught Bard looking over the troop with a suspicious eye and clenched her fists. Did he suspect their true purpose here? Like the elves of Rivendell, would be want to stop them? He averted his gaze to the small window by the door when he saw her looking and his lips turned down in a frown. “I am going out to the market. Do not leave until I return.” None of them acknowledged his departure and the house fell into silence after the door clattered shut.

“Din, we'll be having that story, now.” Bombur, who sat across from her, leaned forward to rest his elbows on the table and patiently waited for her response.

Din frowned. “What about . . .” She glanced up the stairs to where the murmur of the children's voices could be heard.

“Just keep your voice down and they won't hear,” Bombur said, gesturing for her to begin. The other dwarves gathered round once more and Din shifted uncomfortably. She sent a forlorn glance to Thorin. His hatred and mistrust of the elves already seemed unbreakable. While she knew the actions of Faenor's lackey hadn’t had anything to do with Thranduil's woodland elves, no doubt Thorin would blame them. Still, they needed to know. Able to keep it to herself no longer, she told the rest of them about the Silmaril and the story Elrond had told her and eventually lead up to how the Noldor elf had tried to frame her by killing another guard.

Thorin turned from the table in a huff, nearly knocking his chair to the floor as he stood. Surprised, Din stood and followed him to the middle of the small room where he stood with his back to them all. His shoulders were obviously tense.

“Thorin?” She placed a hand on his arm and he turned to face her.

“She promised you would not be harmed. She swore it to me.” His deep voice rumbled through the small room and several others gestured for him to keep his voice down, lest the human children hear him.

It warmed Din's heart a bit to know that Tauriel had outright told them she was alright, but she did not like Thorin's accusation. It was what she had hoped to avoid. She frowned up at him. “Tauriel had nothing to do with it. She couldn't have known what he had planned.”

“But she could have escorted you herself.”

“Not if the King sent the guards himself.” She realized only too late that this was the wrong thing to say. Darkness shrouded Thorin's features and his entire body tensed.

“Could he have known? Could he have sent them knowing that elf would try to hurt you?”

Din let out an exasperated exclamation. “If that had been his plan he could have done so sooner. You're letting your prejudice against Thranduil taint your judgment, just as he did against you.”

Thorin glared down at her. “Do not compare me to that wretched khulm. That coward hides in his halls and would forsake his own kin to the fires of a Balrog if it meant saving his own life. You were not there the day the mountain was taken. He heard our pleas for help and did nothing. He simply turned away while my home, while my people burned. He turned his back on us and we lost everything.”

A tightness gripped Din's throat as the memory passed behind his eyes. She could not begin to imagine the pain or horror he had suffered that day, but nothing would ever change if he continued to let his ghosts hold him to that moment. She made a move to reach for his hand, but remembering the many around them, she stopped herself. Instead, she simply took a small step closer to him.

“I know what he did seems impossible to forgive, but I thought the purpose of this journey was to fix what was done in the past. Are we not reclaiming Erebor to change our fates? To give our people courage and strength? Strength and hatred cannot coexist in the same kingdom. However long the strength can hold out, the fire of hatred will always endure until there is nothing else and you are left weary with the weight of old wounds.”

Thorin held their eye contact but a cold wall erected behind them. Sadness and even fear dampened Din's spirits at the expression on his face. She had seen it only once before, though she had not realized at the time what it was. Back in the Conclave in Ered Luin, Gandalf had told them of the secret door. For the first time in many years, Thorin had been given a way to reclaim what he had lost and his face had darkened the same then as it did now. It was greed she saw in him. Not the casual wanting many dwarves possessed, for they had a great love of things. It was something else entirely.

Thorin stood tall, towering over her as a king would over a subject. “We are reclaiming Erebor to retrieve what was stolen from us, not to befriend those who betrayed us. This is not the time for such foolish naivete,” he said. Din's heart sank and she stepped back with her head bowed glumly, closer to the others. Now Thorin stood alone.

“Fine,” she muttered. “Keep your gold.”


	20. Chapter 20

They were tired of waiting. Night had fallen and there was still no sign of Bard’s return. Not that he would have helped with their venture, even if they had waited for him. The Master’s home was not difficult to find. It was by far the biggest house in the town and was the only building that seemed to have a completely intact roof. Judging by how much he kept for himself despite the hardship on his people, Din had no moral issues with robbing his armory. Her only qualms stemmed from concern for Kili’s health. He trotted along at the back of the line and insisted he was fine, but his skin grew paler and paler every hour and he appeared to have a fever. Oin had done his best to clean out the infection in his leg and rewrapped his wound, but there was still a very noticeable limp in Kili’s step.

The troop snuck carefully through the town, always sending a few at a time to the next safe hiding spot. Bilbo was in the lead, concealed in his ring--there had been no other option back in Mirkwood than to confess to the rest of them that he had it, so the rest of the company now knew as well. It was useful having a scout that no one could see. When they finally reached the Master’s house, they waited beneath the overhang while Bilbo snuck inside to find the armory. Luckily, it was not hard to reach. These humans had been foolish enough to place the armory along the side of the building with a window that could easily be broken into. Bilbo opened the window from the inside and Gloin, Balin, Dori, Oin, Dwalin, Bifur, and Bombur started climbing onto each others shoulders and such to form a sort of staircase to toss the others up to the window. Fili, Kili, Bofur, Ori, Nori, and Thorin as the lightest of the group would be heading inside with Bilbo, as they would make the least noise. Din was told to stand guard outside.

She moved forward and placed a hand on Kili’s arm. “You’re not well,” she whispered. “Perhaps I should go instead and you can stand guard to rest up a bit.” Embarrassment crossed Kili’s face, likely at the prospect of the others thinking he was not up to the task at hand.

“Kili can carry more than you. He will come inside. Wait out here with the others.” Thorin avoided her eye as he spoke and moved on for his turn to be hoisted up to the window. Din scowled at nothing in particular as Kili followed suit. She was no fool. While under normal conditions Kili would no doubt have had more strength than her, but he clearly didn’t feel well. Thorin had to see that. No, she was being brushed aside because of their squabble. But whether he was still angry or just avoiding her out of awkwardness, she could not tell. With no way of arguing with a man that wasn’t there, she spun on her heel and slumped her shoulder against the nearest wooden support beam, listening for sounds of approaching feet. She didn’t notice when someone walked up beside her and jumped when Balin began to speak.

“Do not be to angry with him, dearie.” His white beard had regained its persistent curling at the ends and bounced a little as he spoke. She couldn’t help being angry, though. The change in Thorin had seemed so sudden. Or had he just kept this view to himself and allowed the others to believe his motives were noble? “I did not risk my life all this time just so he could reclaim his riches. My family has done just fine with what we have and I thought the rest of you were happy enough in Ered Luin, too. But apparently what we have to offer is not enough for him,” she said glumly.

A sadness dimmed Balin’s old blue eyes and he patted her shoulder in grandfatherly fashion. “He did not mean what he said. I was afraid this change would start to take hold in him when we got close to the mountain. I prayed he would not be susceptible to the dragon sickness as King Thrain was, but it seems it is in his blood. If it gets worse, all we can do is remind him why he truly came and the people he cares about before he is lost to it. We cannot give up on him.” Din nodded and pondered his words. She frowned at the dock below her feet. She had heard of the dragon sickness when hearing about King Thrain, but she had never really contemplated the reality of it as it was something she had never actually seen before.

Her reverie was cut short when a loud clattering of metal broke out in the building above them, startling the troop. By the sound of it, someone had dropped a fair number of weapons. For several tense moments, no one moved or even dared to breathe. No doubt the guards would have heard that. Everyone inside would be caught for certain. Dwalin turned and ushered the dwarves who had remained outside further down the dock. Din’s heart clenched at the thought of leaving them there, but perhaps if they were able to get away, they could find a way to free the others. Their escape was cut off, however, when a line of armed guards cornered them around the side of the building.

 

* * *

 

 

It looked as if the entire town had come out to see them. The town being as small as it was, it was no surprise how quickly word had gotten out. Din and the others were hauled to the front courtyard of the Master's large estate and pushed into the center of the crowd, torchlight casting ominous shadows on the angry, confused, and even frightened faces of the townsfolk. Din wondered if they'd had such a surprise visit from outsiders since the day Smaug had destroyed Dale. A tense pause enveloped the little square once the entire company was rounded 'bout. Only a faint murmuring from the people and the labored breathing of some of the dwarves echoed around the enclosed space until the large oaken doors of the manor were pulled open and a scruffy, older man strutted out with a stooped dark haired rat-of-a-man trailing behind him.

“What is the meaning of this?” the fat man asked as he haughtily readjusted his fur coat. His beady eyes analyzed the troop of short figures with mistrust and distaste.

“We caught them stealing weapons, Sire,” said one of the guards.

“Ah, enemies of the state, eh?” the Master sneered.

“A desperate bunch of mercenaries if ever there was, Sire,” said Rat-Man. Din was startled when Dwalin began to speak, though it should have come as no shock that the hot-headed dwarf would have words for these humans.

“Hold your tongue,” he spat. “You do not know to whom you speak. This is no common criminal. This is Thorin . . .” Dwalin turned to gesture to Thorin further back in the company and Thorin stepped forward to meet his friend. Heightened murmurs rose from the crowd at his name, though Din could not tell if it was awe or hatred she heard from them. “Son of Thrain, son of Thror!”

“We are the Dwarves of Erebor. We have come to reclaim our homeland,” said Thorin. The whispering silenced and Din glanced around warily. If these humans were inclined to deny the dwarves the right to continue their quest, would their company be at risk of being mobbed? The Master's eyes bugged at Thorin's words and he glanced around at the troop once more, really taking them in this time. Taking advantage of the people's speechless state, Thorin stepped tentatively forward. Instead of addressing the Master, he turned his back to face the people. “I remember this town in the great days of old. Fleets of boats lay at the harbor filled with silks and fine gems. This was no forsaken town on a lake. This was the center of all trade in the North!” His words seemed to kindle a fire within the people. The older of the folk nodded their heads vehemently, probably recalling the same thing. “I would see those days returned. I would relight the great forges of the dwarves and send wealth and riches flowing once more from the Halls of Erebor!”

Something sank in the pit of Din's stomach. There was no doubt he was telling the truth, but she had to wonder if he would make good on these promises if the dragon sickness grew stronger within him. The greed might prove too much for him. If these people decided to fight for what was promised them, it would be blood, not gold that flowed through the river. The cheering of the crowd did not echo her fears, however.

“Death! That is what you will bring upon us!” Din startled at Bard's voice rising above the merriment and turned to find the man weaving his way through the crowd. He and Thorin faced off, each attempting to diminish the other with the sheer presence of his pride. “Dragon fire and ruin. If you waken that beast it will destroy us all.”

“You can listen to this naysayer, but I promise you this. If we succeed, all will share in the wealth of the mountain. You will have enough gold to rebuild Esgaroth ten times over!” As the crowd continued to cheer, Din looked to the other dwarves. None seemed concerned by his lavish promises. She supposed it was most important for now to make sure these people would let them go, but the consequences weighed on her mind if, heaven forbid, they should fail. What concerned her the most was his use of the word “if”. Not once had he showed any doubt regarding the outcome of their journey and for the first time, the reality of their failure hit her. These people looked beaten down as it was. What would it do to them if the dwarves awakened the dragon before they recovered the Arkenstone? Before they had the chance to summon an army? How much time would it take a village of this size to burn? Even if these people managed to evacuate before the dragon reached them, they might never recover from a second devastating assault.

“All of you, listen to me!” Bard shouted. “You must listen! Have you forgotten what happened to Dale? Have you forgotten those who died in the firestorm?! And for what purpose? The blind ambition of a mountain king so driven by greed, he could not see beyond his own desire!”

The crowd began to murmur once more, the grief of memory overtaking them. Din's heart began to race. He was losing them. She rushed forward before she could stop herself and placed herself between Bard and Thorin, also facing the crowd. Many eyes watched her, and for a terrifying moment, she feared she would not be able to find the courage to speak. She took a deep breath and refused to shrink back. “It was not blind ambition that drove Thorin here. A greedy king would have sent others in his stead, rather than risking his own life and the lives of his closest kin. I have not known suffering as you have, but he has. But, even after losing so many of his people on that day, after having his home taken from him and so many of his loved ones lost, he has always fought to help those that survived. Just as all of you have. You have rebuilt and made new homes for yourselves, but can you honestly say you would not change all of this if you could? I know you're scared, just as I am. Until this journey, I had never set foot outside the--” at the last moment, Din remembered that she was supposed to be covering as a hobbit. “The Shire. And I wouldn't have come if I didn't trust each of them with my life. Thorin Oakenshield will make good on his promise.”

She did not rouse the congregation to their previous state of enthusiasm, but their courage seemed to have returned to them. Bard watched them, his features furrowed in the fear of loss. Finally, he narrowed in on Thorin over Din's shoulder and advanced. She had no intention of retreating, but Thorin's hand gripped her shoulder and pulled her toward him until she felt the warmth of his chest against her back. Din tried to ignore the quickened pace of her heart and focused on the stern face of the man towering over her. Bard's attention, of course, was on Thorin. She was mostly just in the way, but an odd sensation passed through her. It felt natural to stand between two opposing sides. Though she couldn't see it's glow in her pocket, she could feel the Silmaril shimmering with energy.

Bard's words brought her back. “You have no right. No right to enter that mountain.”

Thorin leaned forward over her shoulder and she glanced up at him, watching as the torchlight flickered in the depths of his blue eyes. “I have the only right.” He apparently had no more interest in debating with Bard any further and turned to face the Master. Din exchanged an uncomfortable look with Bard before spinning toward Thorin. “I will speak to the Master of this town. Will you see the prophecy fulfilled? Will you share in the great wealth of our people? Well? What say you?” Thorin and the Master now faced off.

“I say unto you,” he snarled. Din was uncertain which way he would decide and felt her pulse beating in hear ears. A tense silence fell. Finally, a smile curled the Master's lips, revealing rotting teeth. “Welcome!” The crowd erupted into cheers once again and Thorin turned to face her, an almost imperceptible grateful smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

She took a step closer and held his eye firmly. “Do not make a liar of me,” she pleaded him. Surprise removed his smile and she could have sworn he frowned down at her. Was he upset or was he . . . sad?


	21. Chapter 21

Din awoke the next morning feeling glum. They had gotten what they wanted and the townsfolk were supplying them to make their way across the lake, but a state of melancholy hung over her. She lingered on Thorin now and then when he was busy directing people or arguing with a guard along the dock about the ration of food they were being provided with. Instead of the flutter she normally felt when she saw him, it left a sorrow in her spirit. He had kept his distance since the previous night and it pained her to be continuously isolated from him. They seemed to be butting heads a lot more recently. She scolded herself for such frivolous thinking. There were more important things happening and the knowledge of that made her feel worse, as if she were being selfish for letting it affect her to this extent.

She jumped when someone nudged her arm and she whirled to face Fili. A humorous smile pulled at his lips at having startled her but she saw concern in the depths of his blue eyes. “What's the matter?” Din asked. He peered over his shoulder through the gaggle of people wandering the dock to where Kili was sitting on a barrel, pale and shaking with fever. Din's heart clenched.

Frown lines crinkled Fili's cheeks. “I don't know what more we can do for him. Oin has tried everything he can think of but nothing is having any effect. Whatever poison was on that arrow, he doesn't know how to fight it. I don't think Kili got any sleep last night.” He didn't say it, but Din could see that he was afraid for his brother.

“We should talk to Thorin. Ask him to wait a few days to give Kili proper time to rest.” Din turned to find Thorin at the dock but instead came face-to-face with the weasel of a man who had been at the Master's side. She believed Bard had called him Alfred. His beady eyes leveled on her as he approached.

“You, halfling. Follow me a moment,” he said.

Fili thumped a hand onto the man's chest as he started to pass and glared up at him. “She's not going anywhere with you.”

Din couldn't help but notice a small piece of parchment scrunched in the human's dirt-dusted hand and was swept with curiosity as she scrutinized the man. What in the name of Durin could he possibly want to discuss? She gripped Fili's shoulder and his long blond braids swung like ropes from a tree as he looked at her. She gestured past him and muttered, “It's alright. We'll go right over there where you can see us.” Fili glanced at the nearby alleyway that lead between the two nearest buildings, cluttered with soggy fishing nets, rusted fishing supplies, and rotting crates and begrudgingly removed his hand from Alfred's shirt. Alfred seemed to accept the opportunity and followed Din. She stepped inside just far enough that they were out of the way of the bustle along the dock and spun on him, crossing her arms impatiently across her torso.

“What do you want?” she asked.

Alfred pursed his lips and glowered down at her, brandishing the folded piece of parchment. “We received this interesting letter by carrion bird this morning. It's from the Elves of Mirkwood. Says you caused quite a bit of trouble while you were in their hold. We've been told not to let you leave.”

She could not go back to the elves. After what had happened, they would kill her for certain. Fear gripped her but she hid it behind a stern scowl. “I can't help but notice that you don't have any guards with you.”

He crossed his arms over his thin torso, his expression giving nothing away. “As of now, you and I are the only people who know this note exists. I could simply rip it up and burn it, and no one would need to know.”

Din rolled her eyes. “Just tell me what you want.”

He leaned closer to whisper his demand and she cringed at the rank of his rotten teeth on his breath. “Gold. I want gold. Whatever you can bring me from the mountain.”

“Right. And say I agree to bribe you. Once you let me go, what incentive do I have to actually bring you any sort of reward? I could simply never return.”

A smirk curled his chapped lips. “This note doesn't only tell me what you did, it tells me what you are, dwarf. I dunno why you dwarf-women like to hide, but I'm guessing that if you're telling everyone you're a halfling, then you don't want them knowing the truth. If I don't get my gold, then I'll tell everyone what you really are.”

Din growled, her fingers digging into her upper arms, but she bit back an insult. Over at the dock, she heard one of the guards say that they would need to get moving if the company planned to reach the mountain in three days time. She didn't have time for this nonsense. “Fine, I'll bring you what I can.” She pushed past Alfred to return to Fili's side but found both him and Kili arguing with Thorin.

“You cannot take this away from him. Not when we're so close,” Fili said. Thorin frowned down at Kili, sadness etched into his face. He placed a hand in the nook of Kili's shoulder the way a father might when trying to deliver unpleasant news to his son. Kili, with all the willpower he could muster, straightened as if Thorin would change his mind if he could only show his uncle how much strength he still had.

“Rest up and join us in a couple of days. The mountain will still be there.” Thorin spoke gently, sounding more like the dwarf she knew and seeing this glimpse of his true self brought a tightness to her chest. She feared the time when it would once again be hidden. Kili swatted Thorin's hand away and spun around in a huff and stomped as quickly as he could manage in his ill state to return to the barrel he had been sitting on before. Oin bustled past to take care of Kili and started checking his vitals again, despite Kili’s annoyed protests. Fili turned to follow him but Thorin grabbed his arm. “Fili, you belong with the company.”

“I belong with my brother,” Fili snapped. He yanked his arm from Thorin's grasp and strutted over to Kili’s side. For a moment, Thorin stared down at the empty space before him in an anguish that threatened to break Din's heart. He looked so weary, so worn, as if everything was slipping away from him little by little. He quickly composed himself, however, and glanced over at her as she stepped closer to him.

“I suppose you'll be staying as well.”

Oh, how she wanted to stay and make sure Kili was alright, but she knew she couldn't. Alfred was her smallest concern at the moment, though for the sake of all the other dwarf-women, she knew she couldn’t just let him reveal her secret. She would deal with him later. And aside from wanting to do as Balin suggested and stand by Thorin through this difficult time, her mind also turned to the dragon that slumbered beneath the mountain. She knew the original plan was for Bilbo to sneak into the mountain and find the Arkenstone, but what if Smaug awoke? The idea of allowing something so evil to once again wreak havoc on these lands was unacceptable to her. These people had suffered so much already. Of course, there was little she would be able to do against a dragon, but she could not just stand by, either. And that meant she could not stay in Laketown.

“No. I will stand by your side.”

 

* * *

  

Bofur had been left behind, as well. He must have overslept and in the bustle of the morning, Din hadn't noticed. The people of Laketown would not hurt him, if for no other reason than because doing so would jeopardize their new alliance with Thorin and squash any chance they had of receiving any gold. Since Fili, Kili, and Oin had remained as well, he would not be alone so Din wasn't worried, despite how she disliked being separated from her kin.

It took three days to reach the far shore beneath the shadow of Lonely Mountain and Din stared in awe at the immeasurable size of it towering over the land. She tried not to shudder at the haunting sight of the ruins of Dale as they passed through them and mostly kept her gaze down the entire time. They had to wrap around the side of the mountain and Din caught only a glimpse of the enormous front door of Erebor. She was humbled by the sight, nonetheless. It took them ages to find the secret stairs that lead up the mountain and they were even more difficult to climb due to their vertical formation. Din, Bilbo, and Ori all had to be hoisted up each time the stairs broke off and continued above them. The horizon was kissed with lightly pinked hues when they reached the top. Durin’s day was coming to an end.

After having Bilbo scout ahead since he was the smallest, they skirted along the narrow ledge after him until the wall pulled away to a high-walled bay, still and quiet. Here, somewhere, resided the secret door. Din slumped onto the ground, finally giving her legs a chance to rest. Thorin rushed forward, staring at the wall in awe. “This must be it. The hidden door,” he muttered to himself. The rest of the company hung back, allowing him to revel in this small victory privately for a moment. “Let all those who doubted us . . .” Thorin began as he slowly turned to them. He held the large dwarven key Gandalf had given him with the map up as a token of success. “Rue this day!”

The troop cheered jovially and advanced on the wall to go about finding the keyhole, but there didn't seem to be any obvious spot for it. The wall was lumpy and full of holes that could all contain the keyhole. Din looked confusedly at the setting sun and back to the wall. This was the last light of Durin's day, was it not? So, if the map was to be trusted, then the light should be shining on the keyhole specifically, not the entire wall. Perhaps the last flash of light before the sun dunked behind the horizon would show them?

Thorin glanced anxiously at the sun. “We're losing the light. Find it!” Nori, as the only dwarven thief in the company, was tapping on the rock with a spoon to listen for any hollow spots while the others felt along the rocky surface to scour for it. Bilbo, on the other hand, stood at the edge of the little bay, looking over the beautiful land. Like her, he seemed to think he would only be in the way since the small area was already flooded with dwarves.

Dwalin let out a growl. “This is getting us nowhere! Year after year we could look for this blasted keyhole while our beards grow until they hang down the mountain. And what is our burglar doing?”

“Do not blame Bilbo,” Thorin scolded. “It is our job to open the door. His job is to sneak inside once it is done.” Dwalin grumbled to himself but dared not argue with his king. “The light is nearly gone. Break it down!” Thorin called out. The dwarves all started hacking away at the mountainside with their axes, but couldn't so much as scratch the rocks.

“It's no use! The door is sealed. It can't be opened by force. There's powerful magic on it,” said old Balin.

“What about you?” Gloin turned to Din and the others followed suit curiously. Din felt her face redden at the feeling of ten pairs of eyes all watching her. “What about your fancy magic with that gem? You cleaved through that trolls head like it was warm butter.”

“I don’t recommend that, either. What if it backfires?” Balin shook his head, his white beard wagging.

“It's worth a shot,” Dori argued. “Perhaps her magic will be able to get through it.” Din didn't need to be asked twice. They seemed out of options and the light was quickly fading. She pushed to her feet and strode past Dwalin to the wall while the others formed a semi-circle. But, looking down at her war axe, she wondered if it would have enough weight to provide the force she would need. The skull of a troll was one thing. This was a mountain.

“Do we have a slightly bigger axe?” She asked. Nori stepped forward and held out his own war axe, which was a good bit bigger than hers. It was the smallest they had, though, so she accepted it. However, she underestimated it's weight and the moment he let go it plummeted toward the ground and pulled her with it. Her face blared even brighter red and she refused to look back at the others out of embarrassment. Instead she readjusted her grip closer to the head of the axe and lifted the hefty thing. She hardly had to think to ignite the metal with her magic--it astounded her how simple doing so had become—and she brandished the axe. As it had before, the metal even felt warm to her as the magic of the Silmaril pulsed through it. Inhale. Imagine the magical shield around the door. Exhale. Imagine the shield breaking down. Swing!

The moment the axe made contact with the wall an invisible force shoved her backward with such vigor that the air was knocked from her lungs. Her entire body flashed with pain and her brain felt as if it were being squeezed. She felt her back collide with someone behind her but was unconscious before the two of them hit the ground.

 

* * *

 

 

Dirt and small rocks were embedded in Din's cheek and jaw. She winced as she lifted to her hands and knees and gingerly brushed the moistureless earth and rocks away from the imprints they had left in her face. She forgot about how it stung, however, when the faint sound of screams was carried to her on a breeze and perked up to find where they came from. It took a few moments for her to realize where she was; the ruins of Dale. There was no time to ponder how she had gotten there. A set of stairs nearby lead up to the wall where guards would once have kept watch, so she scampered up its crumbling white stone steps to the top for a better vantage point. It took only a moment for her to settle on a place to look. Off in the distance, embers engulfed Laketown and Din could still hear the terrified shrieks of people attempting to flee from a large, winged creature soaring above.

A horn blared so loudly and abruptly that Din crouched beneath what remained of the wall of her building in surprise and clamped her hands to her ears. When it ended she stood once more and whirled in the opposite direction to the field that expanded between the ruins and Erebor. It had been empty and barren when the company had passed it, but it was now riddled with the countless bodies of soldiers, though she could not discern their race from here. More horrifying still were the monstrous orcs that crept along checking corpses to make sure they were actually dead and violently dispatching those that weren't. Large, troll-like monsters roamed near the gates of Erebor.

All at once, they all seemed to sense her presence. Thousands, hundreds of thousands of red, dark eyes all moved to her and a horn gave another terrible roar. Din's heart stopped. The monstrosities all began to charge, shrieking war cries in their own grotesque language. Suddenly she was holding the Silmaril and it shone in her hand, ready to meet this evil. Her heart pounded at the sight of the horde advancing on her alone, but she couldn't seem to force her legs to move. The Silmaril's brilliance grew and Din had to shield her eyes from its glory. The glow expanded until all she could see was pure whiteness.

 

* * *

 

 

Din bolted upright and clamped a hand to her chest to ease her speeding heart. “Whoa! It's alright, dearie.” The sound of Bifur's voice startled her and she jumped violently. Bombur's meaty hands gripped her shoulders to hold her steady. Fortunate, too, because she gave another severe start at being touched, as if he were one of the orcs from her dream and not her beloved uncle. Nine dwarves were crouched around her now, but kept their distance to allow her to breath. She did so and her breathing soon returned to normal.

“Are you alright, Din?” Thorin's blue eyes watched her cautiously.

She gave a feeble nod. Looking around at all of their concerned faces warmed her heart, but one was missing. “Where is Bilbo?”

“He is inside, as planned,” said Balin.

“Inside?” Din perked up confusedly but then remembered. The door. Peering around Gloin and Dwalin, she spotted a gaping hole in the wall that disappeared into blackness like the mouth of a stone giant. “It . . . worked?” The company nodded, smiling at the success of their journey so far. Even Thorin was smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Holy crap this chapter went long. xD I hope you all enjoyed it! And don’t worry, I have reasons for both having Din force the door open and giving her the dream. She’s not just suddenly psychic. xD


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AN: The rights to the song I use in this chapter belong to Hayley Westenra and all others affiliated with creating and producing it. I chose this song because I felt it was perfect. :) Please, check it out if you haven’t heard it. It’s quite lovely.

The placement of the moon suggested only half of an hour had passed, but it felt longer. It’s lonely blue light illuminated the little hovel in front of the door in a ghostly way, casting obscure shadows across the jagged surface of the mountain. Din had offered to keep watch while most of the others slept, so that if anything happened, she could wake them. She now sat alone on the edge of the cliff with her legs dangling over the side, looking over the land far below. In the ethereal moonlight, her mind almost tricked her into thinking that the shadows of rocks were the spirits of her ancestors, unable to dig their way down into the Halls of Mandos. The thought welled a sadness within her.

Only Thorin remained awake, which was putting a stopper in her plan. His legs moved into her peripheral vision and she idly thumped her heels against the rocks. “Shouldn't you be getting rest?” he asked. “I can keep watch.”

Din shook her head as a gentle breeze played with her hair. “I got plenty before. You, on the other hand, have not given yourself a chance to do so much as sit down all day.”

“I will sit when the mountain is ours.”

She couldn't restrain a smile. “I doubt that. Given your nature, you will likely find something to keep yourself busy. You’ve never left work to your people because you know you’re able. I've always admired that. Even in Erid Luin, you rarely allowed yourself more than a day or two of rest before leaving to find more hard work to labor over. But for now, you should sleep. You'll need your strength.” Din glanced up at him and tentatively wove her fingers around his wrist. His eyes appeared an even lighter shade of blue in the moonlight and his features softened. To her surprise, he actually lowered himself to the ground, flat on his back. She fought the instinct to move out of the way when he rested his head on her leg and closed his eyes and even surprised herself when she placed her hand on top of the hand he rested on his chest. His fingers coiled around hers.

Peaceful bliss settled over her and she softly began to sing a song her mother used to sing whenever Din’s father would go away into the human towns to barter his goods. Her simple melody drifted from the mountain like the song of a nightingale.

“When the sea falls from the shore,  
As the light sinks low, will I see you any more?  
As the rain falls from the sky,  
Can I bring you back from a distant lullaby?

Show me your vision, the story begun.  
Two lights are rising and burning as one.

In the deep blue of the night  
Shine the millions of stars and my spirit burning bright.  
Spinning on, into the sun, flying higher  
Now my journey's begun.

And the cold, cold wind, it blows me away.  
The feeling all over is a black, black day.  
But I know that I'll see you again  
And I know that you're near me.

There's a star calling my name.  
It's echo is true and the song is not the same.  
Take my hand and lead me away.  
Bring me back to you in your arms I've got to stay.

Tell me your vision, the story begun.  
Two lights are rising and burning as one.

All those years drifting in space,  
I have known you well yet I've never seen your face.  
You turn around looking at me,  
Laughter in your eyes and now I can see.

And the cold, cold wind, it blows me away.  
The feeling all over is a black, black day.  
But I know that I'll see you again  
And I know that you're near me . . .”

Thorin's features were relaxed and his breathing steady. Din smiled down at his tranquil face and dreaded what she would have to do. But she knew neither he nor the others would allow her into the mountain if they knew her intention. She waited a good while, both waiting to be certain he was asleep and enjoying this moment with him. Then, she carefully slid from under his head and gently lowered it to a bunched up tunic from her pack.

The halls of Erebor felt unnaturally cold, as if all life had drained from the mountain, but they were also familiar. The smooth, sleek stonework of the dwarves at the height of their wealth and power; A fair improvement even over the craftsmanship of Erid Luin. She moved by the light of her Silmaril through the desolate halls, uncertain where exactly the treasure horde would be. Mostly, she followed her feet through the familiar dwarvish architecture until she stumbled across a guard long-since passed. Her breath caught at the ghastly sight of his frail form and she crouched down in a sort of reverent moment of silence for the lost soul. How many died that day? How many of her kind had been butchered for Smaug's quest to slate his greed?

Then, despite how it made her skin crawl, she began removing the armor from the skeletal remains. Of everyone in the company, she was the most likely to survive against Smaug. That wasn't saying her chances were good, but they were at least better. And if it turned out she could withstand a blast of his flames, her woolen clothes would certainly not be able to. That would be . . . uncomfortable to say the least.

So, with a heavy heart, she adorned herself in slightly scorched battle armor. The pauldrons, chest piece, and helmet were too heavy for her, so the boots, grieves, and chain mail shirt would have to do. She finished strapping her sword to her waist and continued on her way. After a short time of wandering aimlessly through the halls, it began to grow warmer even though it should be getting colder given that she was moving deeper within the mountain. That could only mean she was getting closer. Her heart nearly stopped when she heard loud, deep rumblings that were unmistakable. Someone was talking. Someone big. Had Bilbo woken the dragon? Her hallway turned into a winding staircase and at the top she saw a bright shimmering of gold; The treasure room. She sprinted up two at a time and waited inside to listen, doing her best to ignore her trembling legs.

“Come now, don't be shy. Step into the light. There is something about you . . . something you carry. Something made of gold. But far more . . . precious.” Din stifled a gasp. Smaug could smell a tiny piece of gold like Bilbo's ring? “Ah, there you are Thief in the Shadows.” Her curiosity was nipped in the bud. Bilbo had been discovered. Bilbo started to speak, but he was too far away for her to discern any words. She risked peeking into the room and gaped at the awe of it. To call this a “room” was a vast understatement. Just from what she could see, a sea of gold flowed below a web of staircases, all leading back to a stone structure like the one she was hiding in. She could not see the back wall and wondered how deep the gold was. And yet, all she could think was, what poor soul was going to go through the hassle of dividing all this into fifteen shares?

She was useless sitting here gaping like a fool, so she slowly crept through the archway. The dragon was not in view so at least he would not be able to see her. She scampered down the stairs, always peeking around corners until she reached the floor of gold. The gold started to shift and the walls trembled beneath Smaug's weight as he stomped somewhere. She peered around the left corner and looked up the ascending pile of gold to the unmistakable sight of a dragon. His scales were a muddy red color, his eyes the glowing orange of embers, and his stature was unattainably huge. Din spotted Bilbo below him, no bigger than one of Smaug's clawed fingers. All it would take is for the monster to reach down and gobble the hobbit up and that would be the end of him. She needed to do something, but what? If she exposed herself, Smaug might just kill Bilbo out of spite for hiding dwarves. Bilbo, on the other hand, seemed to be buying himself time by speaking with the beast. “You have nice manners for a thief and a liar! I know the smell and taste of dwarf. No one better. It's the gold! They are drawn to treasure like flies to dead flesh.” Smaug moved one of his enormous feet and something white flew farther down the pile of gold, unmistakably glowing.

“The Arkenstone,” Din breathed. Bilbo started running after it, Smaug taking pursuit.

“Did you think I did not know this day would come?!” Din no longer focused on the angry ramblings of the dragon and instead watched Bilbo. He was getting closer to her, so perhaps she could just wait. When he reached her they could sneak back up to the tunnel. Smaug didn't seem focused on her scent anymore, but if she moved, he would notice. He now gripped one of the countless support pillars and actually knocked the whole bloody thing over. The floor shook when it collided and Din covered her ears from the sound. Poor Bilbo continued to flee after the Arkenstone but lost his footing and slid down the gold as if it were a mountain of snow and he was on a sled.

“It's Oakenshield . . . that filthy dwarvish usurper,” Smaug was saying. Din perked up at the mention of Thorin. “He sent you in here for the Arkenstone, didn't he?”

“No, no, no. I don't know what you're talking about.” Bilbo said. Fortunately, he hid under a platform before Smaug could snatch him up.

 

The dragon scoffed. “Don't bother denying it. I sensed his foul purpose some time ago. But it matters not. Oakenshield's quest will fail. The darkness is coming. It will spread to every corner of the land. You are being used, thief in the shadows. You were only ever a means to an end. The coward Oakenshield has weighed the value of your life and found it worth nothing.” Din clenched her fists but reminded herself to be patient.

“No, you're lying,” Bilbo called out.

“What did he promise you? A share of the treasure? As if it was his to give. I will not part with a single coin. Not one piece of it!” Smaug declared. Din did not realize Bilbo was making his move on the Arkenstone until she heard Smaug's tail sweep through the gold and she peered out to see Bilbo flying through the air. He landed not fifteen feet from her, near where the Arkenstone had landed. As Smaug rambled about how sturdy his scales were and the boundlessness of his strength, she tried to get the hobbit's attention by waving her arm, but he was too busy watching the dragon.

“So it is true. The black arrow found it's mark . . .” He whispered. Din perked up. What did he mean?

“What did you say?” Smaug spat.

Bilbo scampered to his feet. “I was just saying your reputation precedes you, O Smaug the Tyrannical.” Din waved her arms more fervently and finally, he glanced over, only for a heartbeat, and she pointed down at the Arkenstone, glimmering in a handful of gold. His shoulders slumped in disbelief at his luck.

Smaug was leaning between the hubs that housed the entrances to the tunnels and Din withdrew further from view. “I am almost tempted to let you take it. If only to see Oakenshield suffer. Watch it destroy him. Watch it corrupt his heart and drive him mad.” In the moments before the dragon spoke again, Din faltered. Would the Arkenstone drive him further into the dragon sickness? Would giving him the reward he had been seeking drive him deeper into darkness? The ramblings of Smaug's deep voice cut her mental quandary short. “But I think not. I think our little game ends here.” This was it. Smaug was going to attack. Bilbo knew it too, because he shrank back. Din caught a glimpse of the embers burning beneath the scales of Smaug's chest.

She sprinted from her hiding place toward Bilbo. She was about to run into him when he slipped his ring on and vanished. Hitting something invisible is an unsettling sensation, but his body made imprints in the gold until he rolled behind the next massive hub. Din, on the other hand, bounced the other way and landed flat on her back. The air rushed from her lungs. Her body was stunned for a moment and refused to move. She looked toward Smaug in time to see a bright storm of fire coming for her at an impossible speed. This, she supposed, was the moment of truth. She only had time to roll over with her back to it and cover her face before it engulfed her. 

Dragon fire hurt. A lot. Not, however, as much as burning to death should have. Or was it possible that she wouldn’t feel her skin burning off, even if it did? Regardless of whether she would turn into a crispy treat for the dragon, the fire was burning all the air around her and her lungs ached for more. When it finally ended, she had to build the courage to look at herself. Her armor was badly blackened, but her skin was the same tanned shade she had developed on their adventure. One other thing enveloped her vision; the Arkenstone, glimmering where it had been before. She reached out and gripped it with her fingertips.

“Dwarf . . .” Smaug’s gravelly voice seemed impossibly loud against the silence that followed the embers. Din whirled around to face him, and he straightened up in surprise. “Interesting.” An invisible hand that could only have been Bilbo’s pulled her to her feet and toward the winding stairs around the hub. Flames erupted at their backs, but could not catch them. Smaug rampaged above their heads.


	23. Chapter 23

“What did you mean about the black arrow finding its mark?” Din whispered as they scampered into the hall.

“He’s missing a scale on the left of his breast. I don’t think he even knows it’s there,” Bilbo answered over his shoulder. As she mulled over how they could use this--a normal arrow still probably wouldn’t breach his skin and there was no way they could get close enough to stab him with something heartier--Din paused just inside the tunnel to stuff the Arkenstone into her pocket beside the Silmaril.

“Thorin,” Bilbo whispered further down at the corner. Din perked up, a pang of guilt striking her gut for having tricked Thorin. She sprinted to catch up when the clank of metal against stone made Bilbo jumped back. “There’s no time, we need to go,” he said.

“The Arkenstone. You found it, didn’t you?” Thorin was speaking slowly, with an almost dangerous note to his tone. Din veered around Bilbo to find that Thorin had blocked the hobbit’s way with his blade. He watched Bilbo with greedy suspicion and directed his sword at Bilbo's chest. In that moment, she knew she could not return the Arkenstone to him. Smaug's words haunted her mind and she feared that it really would drive him mad with avarice.

“Thorin . . .” Her voice was little more than a whisper and she pleaded that he would find his way back. His eye shifted to her and the paranoia that had been etched into his face slowly shifted back to normal. His brows relaxed and the darkness in his eyes dissipated. A loud deep laugh rumbled the walls and Din found that the door they had come through was completely blocked by a large ember-colored serpent's eye. Every pore of her skin seemed to ripple with fear as the enormous eye scanned her. What little light had drifted from the well lit treasure room was now almost completely stifled in their confined space, but he seemed to have no trouble finding their forms. As soon as Smaug’s face pulled away, pointing his mouth toward them, she gave Bilbo and Thorin a shove and started to run.

“Go!” Thorin shouted. Further down the tunnel, she heard the bustle of a troop of noisy dwarves making a retreat. Thorin must have had a lead on them. The hallway funneled the flames after them in an impossibly loud roar of energy. She ran as quickly as her feet could carry her, Bilbo and Thorin a step ahead of her with Thorin leading the way through the maze. Finally, the fire died away as they wound through and caught up with the others. They paused to breathe in the light of Gloin’s and Ori’s torches.

“Din . . .” Bifur breathed. He snatched Ori’s torch and held it closer to Din for a better look at her and she glanced down to see what had him so worried. Her armor, of course. It had been scorched black. The others started murmuring at the sight. “Did you . . . find it that way?” her elder cousin asked. She shook her head, but Bilbo spoke up before she could explain.

“She . . . she survived a blast of dragon fire!” exclaimed the hobbit. The gasps of the others made her face flush and she averted her gaze.

Balin stepped forward, taking in the full appearance and meaning of her armor. “Not an inch is unscathed. I know you've got this resistance to fire, but to withstand dragon fire, to be swallowed by it and walk away is truly a work of remarkable magic.” Silence passed and the pensive look on the dwarves' faces suggested they were picturing it in their minds.

“What do we do now?” she asked, both to draw their minds back to the situation at hand and to remove herself from the center of attention. “We could leave through the secret door, but then we'd be exactly where we started. Even if we could find the Arkenstone while Smaug lives, there is no guarantee it would persuade the Iron Dwarves to aid us in killing him.” At least, that's what she told herself. Guilt churned her stomach, regardless. She was being selfish, she knew, for wanting to protect Thorin even if giving him the stone might mean victory for their quest. But she could not bare to lose him to this dragon sickness. Just the thought caused her chest to tighten to the point that she could hardly breathe. Bilbo tried to meet her eye, but she looked away. To her relief, he kept quiet. She slumped against the wall to rest and stared at her shoes.

“She's right. Finding the stone could take days in all that gold and Smaug will not let that happen,” said Thorin.

Dwalin scoffed. “You do realize what you’re asking us to do, do you not? How can the eleven of us hope to have even a chance of killing the beast?”

“We can’t,” agreed Gloin.

“No.” Thorin gave a nod. “But finer to fall defending our home than to once again be cast out for surrendering it.”

You have a plan, don’t you?” Din asked, more as a statement than an actual question. He nodded.

“We make for the forges,” he said. More of the dwarves scoffed.

“We’ll never make it that far! He’ll see us for sure,” said Dori.

“Not if I distract him,” Din offered. As soon as she spoke the words, her legs started to tremble. There was more than one way for a dragon to kill her and she couldn’t help picturing it. Regardless, they needed to reach the forges and this was the best way to get the rest of them there. All heads turned to her again.

“No,” argued Bombur, speaking for the first time since entering Erebor. His brown eyes were wide with fear and his hands, which were folded together over his large belly, were shaking. “You can survive his fire, but that means nothing against his teeth or his claws. What would I tell your mother? That you died that I might live?”

Tears threatened her eyes but she bit them back. She stepped closer to him and put her hands on his arms. “How is it different than what I did with the troll to save you? Or in the goblin cave when Gandalf and I helped you all escape? I stood just as much of a chance of dying then. I know you’re afraid, but I’d be in just as much danger now if I went with you. He’d be chasing all of us at that point and more of us might die. I would rather risk my own life than risk losing all of you just trying to reach the forge. This way, you’ll all make it.” Bombur masked a sound that sounded like a sob and reached forward to hug her.

“I love you, Uncle Bombur,” she murmured. He started to cry--a sound that broke her heart--and Bifur moved to his side to comfort him. Din gave him one last squeeze before pulling away and turned to face Thorin. His arms were crossed defiantly over his chest, prepared to turn down her offer. “Alright, tell me how to get to the forges.” Realizing she was giving him no choice in the matter, he pursed his lips and took a deep breath.

 

* * *

 

 

Down below, a web of walkways were strung about the cavernous room, leading to unknown places. The forge was at the far end and the walkway the others were taking to get there was in the open, plain for Smaug to see. Din was positioned in the overlook along the wall, which stretched along every wall of the room except to her left, where it melded with broad halls that housed even more walkways. How had the dwarves ever navigated through this place? Somewhere, on the far side of the overlook, was a tunnel that would lead her down to the forge once they were all safely through. Now, if the dragon showed up, all she needed was a way to alert him to her presence without making it obvious that she was the decoy. Fortunately, the overlook was stocked with rows of weapon racks for the guards who had once stood watch here.

“Hold up,” she whispered loudly to empty space down the overlook. “We could use these.” She waited to see if Smaug had heard, but no sounds echoed around her. Perhaps he was just too stealthy? She leaned over the solid stone balcony of the overlook and peered around, careful to stay out of sight as much as she could. No dragon. The others were halfway there. Perhaps a distraction was not needed. There was no telling how far away the beast might be. A shimmer of movement caught her eye in the darkness beyond the walkways out to her left. A pair of glowing ember eyes, mere specks in the distance, grew closer very quickly. Did he see her? Or should she wait to draw him in? The closer he came, however, the more danger the others were in.

‘Duck!” She shouted to her right, down the overlook so that Smaug would think they were all hiding out of sight below the balcony. Smaug’s attention narrowed on her and he swept into the room like a hurricane, breaking everything he stepped on. Below, the others paused, waiting until he was past them so he wouldn’t see them move. He crept right past them, oblivious and tunnel-visioned, and finally they had the chance to run for it. The racket Smaug was making masked the sound of their hurried footsteps. Din sprinted down her exposed hallway and veered around the corner just as a blast of dragon fire engulfed the vacant space in front of her. She screeched to a halt. The fire wouldn’t kill her, but with how wide it was spread along the wall, she wasn’t sure she could hold her breath long enough to get through it. The room quickly grew warm and then hot. As soon as the fire dissipated, she made a break for it. Smaug followed clumsily as his large feet crunched everything he tried to stand on. But still, he came. She had almost made it to the next corner when a roar of fire enveloped her once again.

Just as last time, it hurt more than she was comfortable with but wouldn’t leave anything permanent. She clamped her eyes shut against the glare of the flames and slowed her sprint so she wouldn’t smack into the wall. When her fingers met heated stone she redirected and followed along the wall until the flames abruptly shifted down. Din glanced over to see why Smaug had decided to shoot down into the cavern and realized he was falling toward her. Whatever he had been standing on must have given way. She barely had time to dive back the way she had come before his body collided into the overlook, shattering the space that still separated her from the door she needed to get to. Smaug grunted irritably as he tried to stand and ended up taking more of the walkway with him, including the ground in front of the door.

She now had two options: jump onto his back and leap for the door and hope she could pull herself up before Smaug found her or slide down his back and hope she reached the hall the others had gone into before he could turn around. She opted for the later option. Din only allowed herself only one deep breath and jumped for the scaly hill that was his hunched back. Smaug moved to throw her off of him and effectively launched her toward the door anyway. The cold floor was soothing against her skin, still seething from the heat of dragon fire. She landed in a roll and used the momentum to move quickly into a sprint through the high-ceilinged hallway. Thunderous footfalls stomped after her as Smaug gave chace. Her feet carried her with such speed that she nearly toppled over. Finally, she reached a section of the wall that broke away to an enormous iron grating like a gate with no door. The forge.

As soon as she stepped into the room, a hand caught her wrist and pulled her behind one of the pillars. She nearly jumped out of her skin but Thorin clapped a hand over her mouth. Glancing around, she saw all the rest of the company hiding behind other pillars. Smaug let out another blast of fire, though she couldn’t understand why. Did he think he might be able to fry the skin from her bones if he kept trying? Thorin pulled her to his chest just in time for the flames to funnel past them. Din shielded her face from the heat by hiding against his shirt. When it dissipated, she looked over her shoulder at the pillar of fire rising from the enormous forge, lit anew by Smaug. He stared in suspicious awe. Thorin started listing off orders for the others to work the forge while Smaug tried to break his way into the room. What Thorin’s orders were for, she did not know, but they had likely discussed it while she was away.

“And Din, follow Bilbo,” he said quietly.

“I can help,” she offered meekly. She refused to admit that she would prefer a less active role at this point to allow her nerves to ease. The look in Thorin's eye told her he understood she felt that way, but fortunately he didn't make a fuss about it. His fingertips grazed along her cheek as he placed a hand on the side of her face.

“You have done your part. Follow Bilbo and help him with the lever,” he said. Din nodded and scampered after the hobbit. She had to force herself not to look back when Smaug finally bent the metal away enough to slither into the room. Bilbo hopped up the stairs ahead of her, up and up and up until they reached a lever that was taller than either of them. Now they just had to wait for Thorin's order. The dragon was skulking about searching for dwarves. He found Thorin standing alone and for a moment the two faced off.

“Now!” the king shouted. Bilbo leaped up and grabbed hold of the lever and Din followed suit. With both their weight it pulled rather easily. Water poured from the mouths of dwarven statues Din had assumed were just decoration and doused the flame building in Smaug's chest. He flailed around, writhing in agony at the extreme change in temperature and flopped backward. He then had a string of gold-toting iron mining wells dropped on him and got himself tangled. While he was distracted, the gold the forge had been heating was streamed through gutters in the floor.

“I don't understand the plan,” Din whispered to Bilbo. Before he could explain, Smaug managed to fling one of the iron canisters at them and Bilbo barely pulled her down in time to dodge it. As the dragon continued to flail, he crashed into the support of their platform. It gave a terrible shudder and started falling toward the next. The two of them hopped from platform to platform as they were consecutively knocked over until finally they had no choice but to ride the last one to the ground. They rolled onto the floor amidst a pile of stone rubble.

Din only caught a glimpse of Thorin riding something made of iron through the little gold creek and through a tunnel. “Go! Run!” he shouted over his shoulder. She looked around for Smaug only to give her an idea of where to go. She then grabbed Bilbo's wrist and pulled him with her to a structure that would work perfectly as a ramp away from the angry lumbering beast. They moved to a sprint as soon as they hit the ground to flee from the forge. The door they found themselves running through lead to the main hall, a gargantuan structure of fine sturdy craftsmanship. The wall behind them fell to pieces when Smaug burst through and the enormous banner that had been displayed there fell to the floor, enveloping them. It seemed impossibly heavy, even considering the thick weave of the fabric. Regardless, the ripples in the drape concealed them.

“You think you can deceive me, Barrel-rider?” Smaug's voice sounded manic, desperate. “You have come from Lake-town. This is some sordid scheme hatched between these filthy dwarves and those miserable tub-trading Lakemen. Those sniveling cowards with their long bows and black arrows! Perhaps it is time I paid them a visit.”

“Oh no . . . This isn't their fault.” Bilbo muttered. Smaug turned to flee the mountain and before Din could stop him, Bilbo scrambled from his hiding place to run after him. “Wait! You cannot go to Lake-town!” he pleaded. This gave Smaug pause, but not for pity on Bilbo's sake. She sprinted after him and attempted to pull him out of view behind a pillar, but he would not budge.

“You care about them do you? Good.” He turned a livid eye on them, drawing far too close for comfort. Those were awfully big teeth. “Then you can watch them die!” He turned down one side of the room but was stopped again, but not by Bilbo.

“Here! You witless worm!” Thorin shouted. A low growl emanated from Smaug and he slowly turned to face Thorin, who stood atop an enormous mold at least eight stories high. The two tossed angry banter back and forth and Din took the time to devise a plan of her own. If Thorin was thinking of doing what she thought he was doing, she feared what would happen if it failed. She glanced over at the main gate. Stone rungs were etched into the wall beside the massive door that likely led up to the wall where guards had kept watch. If Smaug left, he would likely try to leave through that door again.

Her mind lingered on Bard, on the fear in his face as he begged them not to come. Erebor had been claimed by the dragon in a matter of hours. How quickly would he dispatch a tiny town made of wood? On the other hand, the Lakemen were the ones with black arrows, as Smaug had said. If she could warn them of the missing scale . . . She clenched her fists. There was only one way to reach Laketown in time. Despite how her skin crawled at the idea, a plan fell into place. A terrible fool-hardy plan that would in all likelihood get her killed. But what plan on this journey hadn't promised to do the same? She bolted for the gate and Bilbo made a startled noise.

“Where are you going?” he whispered after her. Soft footfalls indicated he was following. It took much longer than she liked to climb up to the walkway. She nearly gasped at the breathtaking view of the alley beyond and the sky lit with countless stars. Bilbo climbed up beside her, looking at ease. He probably assumed she had just climbed to safer ground. At the other end of the room, Thorin gave the order to break the mold. It fell away and for a few moments, the gold maintained the form of a regal dwarf, likely the last King of Erebor. It then wobbled and fell about Smaug's feet. The dense liquid pushed Smaug back with the force of a tidal wave. He was unable to brace himself as it pushed him through the room. Eventually he collided with the main gait with enough force to make the entire thing quake. For a moment, she thought maybe the collision had in fact been strong enough to kill him. But he arose amid angry cries.

“Revenge?” He wailed, clearly regarding what he and Thorin had been discussing, which Din had not heard amidst her racing thoughts. “I will show you revenge!” Smaug recovered his footing and moved back to get a running start at the gate.

Din turned to Bilbo, gripping his shoulders tightly to draw his attention to her. “Tell them I'm sorry.” She gave him a rough shove and he slid across the stone. “Go!” She shouted. When he didn't budge, she withdrew her sword threateningly. “Now!” He did as she said and ran until he reached the far wall. It was unlikely the entire thing would break, so that seemed a safe place for him. She sheathed her sword and took several deep breaths that failed to calm her. Finally, Smaug barreled into the gate again and it gave way, the middle section of the walkway falling and taking her with it. She timed her shot as best she could and leaped. Her stomach lurched at the sickening feeling of free-falling. Smaug didn't seem to notice when she landed on his back. He probably mistook her for a piece of rubble. The dwarf lass held fast to one of the spikes along his spine as he ascended into the sky but nearly lost her grip with every beat of his powerful wings. There was no turning back now.

She would either ride Smaug to victory, or to her own death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: The reason I changed what happened with the gold is because what happened in the movie didn’t adhere to the rules of physics. So, I tried to make it more accurate. I hope you all enjoyed!


	24. Chapter 24

After the initial shock of colliding with Smaug’s iron scales, every part of Din’s body felt sore. The harsh wind whipping her face made her eyes water and would have made her cold, except the heat radiating off of Smaug kept her warm. She couldn't look forward to tell where they were going. When she looked down, however, she saw the moon reflected in ripples on the water. It was moving impossibly fast. It had taken them a few days to cross the distance between Erebor and Lake-town. It took Smaug minutes. To her relief, people were already evacuating, but not fast enough. The dragon lit a row of houses aflame with one breath as he zoomed by and screams erupted below.

Din knew there was little she could do, but perhaps she could distract him to give people a chance to escape. With one hand still gripping one of the spikes on his back, she withdrew her sword and filled it with the Silmaril's magic. Even against the fire below it glowed bright. She started hacking at Smaug's back and sparks flew as her sword scraped against his scales. He gave a satisfying start and his head swung around to find her, but before he could react further, she lifted her sword again, holding it upside down. A battle cry escaped her and as she shrieked, she plunged it down and surprisingly, it sunk half an inch between two scales. She nearly laughed giddily that it had even done that much.

It was unlikely any blade had actually pierced his hide before. Even as small as the wound was, he gave a cry of pain and flailed to fling her from his back, but she jumped free before he could. She descended toward one of the lit houses and crashed through the burning roof. Her legs crumpled beneath her as she landed and she rolled onto her back. There was no knowing whose home this was. What meager belongings they had possessed until now were all burning to ash and the smoke started to fill her lungs. Through a fit of coughs she looked around for a window. Her body cringed at the idea of of running through the dragon fire. Even though it wouldn't actually burn her it would still hurt, a pain she had not missed through the years. As was her strategy before, she stood and bolted through to the window before she could second guess herself. Cold air enveloped her as she crashed through the glass. Black water rushed to her as she fell into the river that flowed between the docks and the bitter coldness of it hurt almost as much as the fire had. She gasped for breath once she resurfaced but the cold made it difficult to breathe.

No one running down the dock stopped to help her pull herself up. It took several heaves before she was finally able to pull herself up enough to roll onto the rickety wooden planks. “Please, can someone tell me where the black arrows are?” Everyone moved quickly past her, ignoring her promptings. “Anyone!” she pleaded following an older pair.

“There are none. Just run!” The man prompted. They ran off but Din stopped to find someone else. Another body rammed into her and she heard them crying apologies as she fell once again into the water, but the girl didn't stick around to help her back out. From the corner of her eye she spotted a longboat drifting her way and quickly waded under the dock to avoid being hit. Her neck complained at the strained position she had to take in order to keep her mouth above water and it seemed to take forever for the thing to pass. When it did she glided out and hoisted herself back onto the dock. The area was now barren, so she allowed herself a few moments of rest.

By the time her exhausted muscles were able to lift her weight up again the boat was a good deal farther. Surprise jolted her when she realized it was Bofur, Kili, Fili, Bard's children, and Tauriel of all people inside. It would be easy to run forward and ask for their help, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. They were nearly out the village. Nearly safe. But when the young boy, Bard's son, grabbed the hook of a small crane and swung from the boat his sisters started to cry after him. Tauriel and the others kept the girls in the boat and disappeared behind a piece of heavy debris that collapsed into the river. Where on earth was the boy going? She raced after him and turned the corner he had gone.

He was digging through a longboat trapped by debris. “You there,” Din called out. He jumped back, his eyes wide with astonishment and clutched a long item cloaked in fabric to his chest. “Bain, correct? You need to catch up to the others,” she said. Even as she said it, she knew there was no chance of that. The boat was too far gone by now. He shook his head adamantly and stepped backward, tilting the boat. He threw an arm out to catch himself and the jostling movement allowed the blanket to slip a little. The head of a large finely crafted iron arrowhead, more like the head of a spear, showed through the top. It was unmistakably a very large and very black arrow. Din gaped at it and then at Bain.

“I need to find my father,” he said. There was no time to argue.

“Stay close to me,” she instructed. He accepted her extended hand and she helped him onto the dock. If she were in the mood to be petty, she would have pouted about the fact that even this young human boy was slightly taller than she was. “Do you know where your father is?”

“He's on top of the bell tower. That way.” He pointed toward the center of town with a dirt and sweat sodden hand. The bell tower stood high above everything else. Sure enough, Bard stood at the top, firing arrows at Smaug as a last desperate effort. Din grabbed hold of Bain's arm so they wouldn't get separated. They weaved through alleys and around homes, wherever it was clearest to run. Whenever fire started creeping into their way, she would let Bain walk on clear ground and walk through the fire herself. He noticed, but didn't say anything. The water that clung to her armor and hair started to sizzle off and in short time she was completely dry again, a shame considering the water had helped keep her cool. When they finally reached the bell tower, she ushered Bain forward to climb the stairs first. Smaug flew by beside it and made the whole thing wobble, but Bain didn't falter and kept climbing. He poked his head through the trap door at the top.

“Dad,” he said.

“Bain! What are you doing?” She heard Bard say. The terror in his voice made her regret allowing the boy to come, but what else could she do? Leave him on the dock to die? She climbed up the ladder beside him and he moved over to give her room.

“Bard, we need to talk.”

Bard's eyes narrowed. “You. Haven't you done enough? How did you even get here?”

“I um . . .” Din averted her gaze and tucked her hair behind her left ear. “I found a ride.” His eyes bugged and he looked out to Smaug and then back to her.

“Why the devil would you do that?”

“Because there's a way we could kill the dragon. He's missing a scale on his left breast,” she said. For a moment, Bard didn't speak as he let that sink in. Din remembered that it had been his ancestor who fired the black arrows before. It must have been a relief to know he truly had not missed his mark. But doubt returned to sink his features.

“It doesn't matter. Even without the scales, nothing can pierce his hide.”

“This might,” said Bain. He lifted the black arrow free of the blanket. Bard clapped a hand to his son's face affectionately, now understanding why his son had come. Din started to duck below the trapdoor to allow them this moment in a little privacy, but when Bain shouted and pointed behind Bard she noticed Smaug flying straight for them. He ripped the top of the tower off and the force of his collision caused their level to collapse. She landed flat on her back on the level below, beside Bard.

“No!” He yelled. Scrambling forward, he reached down to help Bain, who had nearly been knocked off into the fire below. Once he was safe Bard plucked the black arrow from his grip.

“Stay low,” Din whispered to Bain. Even if she had not, the boy seemed to be in shock and wouldn't have moved anyway. She reached up for Bard's arm and he turned to look at her. “I will do what I can to give you a clean shot.” She ignored his protests and climbed down the tower. She paused only a moment when Smaug landed amidst the burning town and leveled his eye on the bell tower.

“Who are you that would stand against me?” she heard the monster say. Looking around frantically, she spotted a building tall enough for her plan to work and made a bee line for it. She had to carefully tread across a pair of little boats to cross to the next dock and sprinted through the alley to stay out of Smaug's sight. She wasted no time in climbing the building when she reached it. At the top, she looked out to see Smaug crunching buildings beneath his feet. But he would be close enough when he passed by and she was positioned a small height above his back.

“Tell me, wretch, how now shall you challenge me? You have nothing left but your death!” Smaug cried. He let out a terrible roar and began to barrel toward them. He must not have been able to smell her through the fire because his attention was fixed on Bard, so she found her balance on top of the building's roof and drew her sword. It glowed anew, ready to taste his flesh again. Smaug passed by unaware. Din made her aim and leaped. She gripped her sword upside down in both hands and fell toward the curvature of his back. When she was close enough, she let the momentum of her fall and the force of her arms drive the blade into his back. It only sunk in about a foot, not enough to do real damage to the massive worm, but as she had hoped he lurched up, arching his back in pain and crying out. His chest would now be exposed. She held fast to the sword so she wouldn't fall off and his body gave a terrible shudder and she heard something dig through the hide of his chest.

Bard had taken his shot. Smaug glided past the tower—Din only caught a glimpse of Bard and Bain clinging to the wooden support beams as it nearly fell but. Smaug started to fall toward a cluster of burning houses. If she remained on his back, she would likely be crushed. She jumped for the water and was once more engulfed in its freezing clutches. Now in the distance, Smaug crashed through homes and in a last ditch effort to survive, kicked off to fly high. He flew straight up flying higher and higher until he just stopped. His body started to descend, lifeless.

 

* * *

 

 

The sun had risen. Finally Din reached shallow enough water to stand. Her sword was still embedded in Smaug's back, now deep in the water of the long lake. She no longer wore the armor, either. It had been too heavy for her drained body to swim with. Her shirt was riddled with holes where the fire had poked through the gaps in the chainmail shirt but both the Silmaril and the Arkenstone were still safe in her pockets as the solid grieves had kept her pants from burning. Around her, people sobbed and looked for their loved ones. She trudged for dry land and collapsed as soon as she reached it. Her entire body felt bruised and sore. People's shadows moved around outside her closed eyelids. She slept.

 

* * *

 

 

Din found herself once again on one of the ruined walls of Dale. The decimated battlefield had not changed. Grotesque orcs and other spawns of evil crept around to kill any man, elf, or dwarf that had survived. She backpedaled to retreat from the horror. Was this what was to come? Was there anything she could do to stop it? Suddenly she was holding the Silmaril and it shone brightly against the evil on the field. Now the orcs shrunk back in fear against this light. The fallen people began to rise, to fight back. She beamed, but her joy was cut short when an invisible hand wrapped around her neck. Her feet lifted off the ground. Her body's energy began to drain from it and she became weak.

 

* * *

 

 

Din jolted awake to find that there really was a hand clutching her throat, holding her above the ground. The elf who had tried to kill her in Mirkwook glared at her with a seething hatred. His grip tightened. Her lungs burned for air. Her weakened body would not respond. Was he using magic to drain her life? Fear pumped adrenaline into her body. Light from the Silmaril peeped through her pocket, leaving a streak of light across his chest. Its light seemed to negate the sway of his spell and energy returned to her arms. She gripped his hand in hers, fueling her grip with the stone's magic and he released her with a cry of pain. Her body was still weak, but she pushed to her feet and tried to fumble away from him. He grabbed her foot and yanked. She fell to the ground and was dragged back toward him. He reached a hand out toward her, murmuring an incantation to himself and his fingers clenched. Agony ripped through her entire body. She screamed.


	25. Chapter 25

He released his magic, giving her a moment to breathe only to knock her over with his foot and press his boot to her throat. She gripped it with both hands to relieve the pressure from her windpipe. “You’re not escaping this time. The stone might have rejected me, but I wonder if it will still be bonded to you when you are dead.” Din stared lividly through the curtain of his long brown hair. His hazel eyes peered black from the shadow his hair provided. She opened her mouth to speak but the spell he had used before split through her body again, turning her words into a scream. “Did I say you could speak?” he sneered when it finally ended. He withdrew a blade from his back and poked the tip into her abdomen. She winced at the sting, but was more worried about what would happen next.

“Arthenon!” a woman shouted. The elf tensed and turned to Tauriel. A stern expression narrowed her features. “Step away from the prisoner. The King wants us to return her to him alive.” Arthenon's grip tightened around the handle of his sword, but he removed his foot from Din's neck. She rolled onto her side and an aching prickling in her throat made her cough. When the pain eased, she pushed herself onto wobbly legs and met Tauriel's glance.

“Did they make it?” she asked. Arthenon scrunched his brows in confusion.

Tauriel gave a slow nod. There was no sympathy in the elf's eyes this time, as there were in Mirkwood. What had her so upset? “Yes, there were no problems.”

Din sighed in relief, knowing Bofur and the others were safe, probably heading back to Erebor by now. Her recurring dream weighed heavily on her mind. “Please, I need to get back to them—”

Arthenon extended his sword toward Din again. “Silence. You're not going anywhere.” He turned to Tauriel. “The king will just have her killed when we return. Why don't we just bring him her head and avoid the risk of her breaking free again on the way back?”

“His name was Fidnor.” Tauriel said. Din stared up at her in confusion, so the elf ignored Arthenon and stepped closer to Din until she towered over her. “The guard you murdered to escape. His name was Fidnor. I did not fight for you to be returned to your cell so you could kill one of my kin.”

The little dwarf retreated a step and pointed at Arthenon. “Tauriel, please, that wasn't me it was him.”

Tauriel tensed in anger. “Do you really take me for a fool? Even if I believed that he helped you escape, he would not have done so at such a cost.”

“Enough! She won't believe your lies, dwarf,” Arthenon spat.

Din dug into her pocket—also finding several pieces of gold that must have slid in sometime in the mountain—and pulled the Silmaril out. “He wasn't trying to help me escape, he needed an excuse to kill me for this!” Tauriel's green eyes widened at its glow and shifted to Din.

“It was you. You rode the dragon . . .” she breathed. Din focused instead on Arthenon since he still posed a threat. His hazel eyes shone with hatred and anger as her fingers wrapped around the Silmaril’s ethereal looking surface. Even in Mirkwood he had not caught a glimpse of it as she had kept it from glowing when she had clapped it to his hand, but seeing it seemed to add a wild look to his eye. His fingers twitched with an eagerness to grab it.

Din gripped it tighter and took a step toward him. He met her glance. “If your kind are truly loyal to the Silmarils, then you must adhere to their plight. Please, the stone showed me something. A dark army approaches Erebor. I know not from where, but countless will die if we do not warn everyone,” she pleaded.

He scoffed. “Do you think I will believe your lies if they are big enough? I will not allow you to continue to squander it's magic and use it to further your own ends. I have no qualms of prying it from your corpse.” He withdrew his second blade and lunged for her, but Tauriel drew one of her own weapons and wove around him to block his swing. She then kicked him in the gut and he stumbled backward. Din pulled a short sword from a holster at the small of Tauriel's back. Although it was large given the difference in their sizes, elven weapons were remarkably light. Tauriel was already advancing on Arthenon again and he stood to swing his blade at her neck. Both moved with grace and fluidity, weaving around each other’s blows. Din charged and swung at his side at the same moment Tauriel made a strike for his chest, but he deflected each with one of his short swords. Din shifted to strike again, but he leaped high into the air and kicked Tauriel in the jaw. Din backpedaled before he could kick her and he spun to her the moment he landed, Tauriel still recovering behind him.

He charged for Din. She lifted the stone and released a flash from it. Unlike the usual harmless disorienting effect, a wave of white fire accompanied the flash. Arthenon braced an arm over his face to shield it. Even Tauriel, approaching from over ten feet away withdrew and braced her arms in front of her face to protect it from the heatwave. Arthenon cried out against the burn and wrenched his cloak from his shoulders as it caught fire. Din gaped stupidly at the stone. Cradling his burned arm, Arthenon stared back and forth between them. With a snarl, he wove his good arm in a circle over his head, muttering an incantation, and when he thrust it back down a swirling force of magic pushed both of them back. Din's back scraped painfully against the rough ground. He was gone when she pushed up to a seated position.

“Tauriel, are you alright?” Din called over to the ginger elf. Tauriel's green eyes met hers and for several long moments, she just sat their and sized up the dwarf.

“Were you telling the truth about your vision?” she asked. Din's relief over their victory dissipated. She nodded. Tauriel sighed and pushed to her feet, crossing the distance between them in long strides. She extended a hand that Din accepted and hoisted her to her feet. “Then we must return you to Erebor.” The dwarf stashed the Silmaril and scurried after the elf to find a boat they could commandeer. She was suddenly reminded that the Arkenstone was stashed in her other pocket and subtly checked for it. It was there. She would worry about it later.

She had washed ashore a ways apart from the people of Lake-Town. The two found them all gathered together, searching for loved ones and mourning those they had lost. People were crying as they passed and an aching spread through Din's chest. She hadn't wanted any of them to die. Bard had been right. The failure of the company had brought far worse consequences on this town than it had for them.

“You,” someone whispered behind her. Din rolled her eyes in disgust as the weaselly lakeman, Alfred started following her. “Did you bring me what you promised?”

Din swatted a hand at him. “Go bother someone else, wretch. I have bigger problems to contend with.”

Alfred grabbed her wrist and yanked her back. Anger bubbled in her chest and she threw a fist into his stomach. While he backpedaled, she wrapped her foot around his ankle and he tripped. She glared down at him flat on his back and pulled a single coin from her pocket and dropped it onto his chest.

“That's all the gold you'll get from the dwarves, worm. And if you even think of telling people my secret, I'll cut out your tongue.” As she turned away she heard him scuffle from the ground to follow. Tauriel moved to help but Din shook her head. When his complaints were close enough, she spun and drove her elbow into his face. He wound up on the ground again, wailing in pain even though she hadn't actually hit him that hard. A smirk toyed with Tauriel's lips.

“Satisfied?”

Din chuckled but halted when she spotted Bain huddled in a blanket, peering around as if looking for someone—likely his sisters. Her blood chilled. Where was Bard? She hadn't been able to see Bard and Bain make their escape. Had Bain been the only one to return? She prayed they had only separated to look for Sigrid and Tilda. Din only vaguely heard Tauriel say her name as she sprinted for the boy. Her heart pounded fearfully, but when Bain saw her, his face lit up in a wide beam. Surely he wouldn't have been smiling if Bard hadn't made it back with him. Bain stood to meet her, his face almost giddy with excitement.

“You made it!” he exclaimed. Din jumped when he wrapped his arms around her shoulders. “I was afraid you drowned or worse.” Something between a laugh and a sob escaped her and she returned the hug awkwardly and then stepped away.

“As was I. Where's your father?” She swiveled her head around to look for him but was instead aware that people were staring at her. Whispers snaked through the air and the hairs on the back of Din's neck tingled as they stood on end. A middle aged man stepped forward, his face twisted in anger beneath his scruffy brown beard and thick brows.

“You're one of them. Was it worth it? Do you even regret what you've taken from us?” he asked pointing an accusatory finger at her. “We've lost everything because of your petty quest!”

A woman who seemed to be his wife strode to his side, the heartbreak in her features masked by livid anger. “Do you think the 'king' would give us what we are due if he knew we had her?” Fear gripped Din's chest. Were they going to ransom her? A hand touched her shoulder and Din looked up at Tauriel. She appeared to be analyzing the situation. Considering how to dissolve it? Looking for a way out?

“No one is to lay a hand on her.” A group of people parted and Bard wove through. He clapped a hand on one of Bain’s and one of Din’s shoulders.

The angry man crossed his arms and scowled incredulously. “What’s it matter to you? You were against them going to the mountain to begin with.”

Bard’s grip on her shoulder tightened reassuringly. She was glad to know he was on her side after what the dwarves had brought upon them. “That does not excuse deplorable action against one who helped slay the beast.”

“Da!” Bard’s youngest daughter bolted through the crowd with her sister and Bard turned with open arms to them.

Bard laughed and scooped them up. “It's all right, darlin',” he said. As they embraced an older man pushed through the crowd. Din vaguely recognized him from the dock.

“It's true, they killed the dragon! I saw it with me own eyes. They brought the beast down! Shot him dead with a Black Arrow.” There was a moment of pause as people in the crowd looked at one another. Then they all moved in on their little group. For a heartbeat, she thought they were forming an angry mob of disbelief, but people started patting Bard on the shoulder. As she was so short, only the few people directly in front of Din could actually see her, but they all smiled down at her. She may have helped kill Smaug, but their town was lost regardless. And she still shared blame for it happening. Her stomach sunk to a black pit.

 

* * *

 

 

“Bard, can we talk?”

Bard gazed down at Din and gave a hesitant nod. The crowd had thankfully dispersed, so when they stepped away from Tauriel and his children they had some semblance of privacy. “What is it?” he asked.

She folded her arms in on herself, feeling vulnerable. She felt her lip wobble slightly, tears threatening to escape. “I'm so sorry,” she said barely above a whisper. Sadness darkened his brown eyes. He placed comforting hands on her shoulders, but only made her feel worse about herself. He shouldn't be comforting her. She was not the one who had just lost her home.

“Nothing can be done of it now. And you did all you could. I cannot think of anyone else foolish enough to ride a dragon.” His eyes narrowed pensively. “Is it sorcery? The fire?”

She was grateful he was being vague, even though no one was listening. “More like a powerful enchantment. But what I wanted to talk to you about is something that might be coming; an evil heading toward Erebor. These people want to go to the mountain. I've heard them talking. But you must keep them away, for their safety.”

Bard's brows furrowed. “What sort of evil?”

“Din,” Tauriel called over. She gestured to a blond elf—recognizable as Thranduil's son—riding toward her on a light brown horse with a darker one trailing behind, probably intended for Tauriel.

Din grimaced and turned back to Bard. “I have to go, but please, keep these people away from the mountain.”

“I'll do what I can,” he said with a brief nod. As she had seen of human custom during her stay in Lake-Town, Din extended a hand to him, which he shook. She then sprinted back to Tauriel. The blond elf eyed Din suspiciously as he dismounted.

“You found her.” He drew a blade and moved toward her, but Tauriel gripped his arm to stop him.

“Legolas, wait.” They argued in hushed tones, also speaking in Elvish by the sound of it and he kept glancing in her direction. Din tapped her fingers on the sides of her legs as she waited. They spoke for a little while as Tauriel likely explained what had happened. Finally, he went still, his face full of both shock and disbelief. He turned to her.

“Show it to me,” said the elf sternly. Din looked to Tauriel, who nodded. Hesitantly, Din stepped forward and pulled the stone from her pocket. She kept it cupped in her hands so others would not see and only allowed it to glow faintly, but it was enough for him. His eyes widened and he looked once again at Tauriel. “My father will want to know about this.”

“Please, an army is coming. I need to warn them or they'll all die!” Din gripped the stone urgently.

Sternness hardened his features once more. “The lives of thirteen dwarves is not my concern,” he said.

Din clenched her fists. “I will not abandon them! I am going to the mountain one way or another, so if you won't help me, then get out of my way.”

Tauriel gripped his arm again. “If it was our people, you know we would do the same.”

Legolas pinched his eyes closed and inhaled deeply, his lips pursed. “Fine. Get on.”


	26. Chapter 26

Bard had made sure the three of them had bedrolls and what sparse provisions the people of Lake-Town could spare. He'd even found her a tunic that wasn't riddled with holes. Din shared Tauriel's horse and sat in front of her. It likely made the seat uncomfortable for Tauriel, but she did not complain. She and Legolas spent much time talking during the first day of their journey around the Long Lake. This would not have grated on Din's nerves if they hadn't been speaking in Elvish the entire time. Tauriel would occasionally ask her how she was doing, but the only time Legolas ever addressed her was to order her around when they stopped for a meal. Back in Mirkwood, she would not have thought of addressing him, but compared to facing off against a dragon, an elf with a bad attitude hardly seemed scary. When they finally made camp for the night, she'd had enough and started barking back.

With their provisions running low, the elves had caught a few starlings, which were new roasting over a small fire. Legolas and Tauriel had once again resumed speaking in their native dialect, but they actually seemed to be arguing. She'd heard Arthenon's name come up a few minutes ago and something about orcs. She was content to leave them to their bickering until Tauriel mentioned Kili's name. Din rotated the birds and then sat down, peering at them around the fire.

“What about Kili?” she asked. The elves glanced at her and then back at each other. With an irritable sigh, Din leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees as she tore the bark from a twig to keep her hands busy. “Kili. Dwarf? Brown hair? Injured leg? You mentioned his name. I know you're apparently adamant about keeping me out of whatever it is you're discussing, but if it's about something that involves me, I'd like to be included. How is his leg? And his fever?”

Tauriel rested her hands in her lap. Something flickered in her eyes—affection, Din thought—but the she-elf glanced down to hide it. “He is much improved. I was able to heal the poison with Athelas and his fever went down a few hours later. He and the others took a boat across the lake the morning after the attack, before I found you,” said she. Din nodded, tension relaxing in her shoulders. Legolas, on the other hand, had stiffened into a brick. In the short time she'd been with them, she'd caught him sneaking glances at Tauriel a handful of times. She was no expert, but it would seem he had an affinity for her. He had clearly noticed the attraction between Tauriel and Kili. The fact that Kili was a dwarf probably made his jealousy much worse.

But it was not Din's place to judge what was growing between the two. Pondering on it, she thought they might actually make some semblance of sense together, but she worried what would come of it. There were few who would accept them if they truly fell in love. The Peredhil were one thing; men and elves had a symbiotic relationship, so it was far less outrageous when their bloodlines mixed, but nothing like this had ever even been considered between elves and dwarves. They would have a difficult road ahead of them.

She decided to redirect the conversation. “What will you tell your king? About Arthenon?”

A grumble escaped Legolas' throat. “You're certain it was him?” he asked Tauriel.

“Yes,” she insisted with a pointed glare. “I already told you. He was going to kill her for it and he attacked me, as well when I tried to stop him. He has also lied about who he is for the many years we have known him. You know as well as I that no elf of normal bearing could have possessed such powerful magic. But a Noldor ascended from Fëanor? He would certainly be capable.”

Legolas shook his head with chagrin. “How did we not know? How was he able to hide it from us?”

“Because you weren't looking for it. You had no reason to,” Legolas glared at Din for joining in and she lobbed a sour look back at him.

“How can we be sure the stone is truly bound to you? It's magic could have just rubbed off after being in your possession for so long. It could have only given you the vision because you were the closest person to it,” he jeered. Din groaned and pushed to her feet. The birds were cooked by now, so she pulled the stick off it's spokes and ripped one of the still hot carcasses from it. She handed Tauriel the stick with the other birds still on it—Din's beef was not with her, so there was no call for burning her hands. Then she tossed the first bird, still sizzling, to Legolas and let out a satisfied chuckle when his eyes widened and he let it bounce out of his grip.

“Still not satisfied?” she asked mockingly as she rolled one of her sleeves up as far as it would go. Without hesitation, she held it in the fire for a good five seconds. She grinned as a muscle in his jaw moved in an attempt to keep his face from giving anything away. She could have sworn he'd jolted a little before she'd done it, for fear that his charge would burn her arm off. Perhaps he was imagining the dwarves’ reactions if she were returned to them in such a state. Was he afraid they would try to chop off his head? That gave her an evil idea. Shooting him a smirk, she stuck her head in, careful not to dive far enough in that the collar of her shirt would start to burn. Though she had to hold her breath, the flame actually felt refreshing on her face, as if it were replenishing a little of her energy. After ten seconds, she pulled back out and ran her fingers through her dark hair to remove it from her face.

“It would take more than a little 'rubbed off' magic for that, would you not agree?”, she asked. Legolas' unblinking eyes were the only indication that he was surprised. Din accepted the starling Tauriel extended to her and busied herself with eating, aware that his watchful eye was still sizing her up.

“How did you come by it?” Tauriel asked. Din met her eye, finding no deception in the elf. She was just curious. Din chewed on her lip, debating whether to share.

“I used to watch over Fili and Kili when they were children. But I was still basically a child myself, so I was foolish enough to think playing in the mines was an acceptable idea and even more idiotic to think riding a hand car would be fun. Kili and I ended up going over the side down a cavern. Fili and I were able to get Kili back up, but I fell in the process.” Din pulled the Silmaril from her pocket, letting it glow. She couldn't help but feel that it did so affectionately. “The stone was down at the bottom and started to glow when I got near. Shone even brighter when I picked it up. I've kept it with me ever since. I had no idea what it was until we went to Rivendell.”

Neither elf spoke for a while. Din was surprised when Legolas was the first. “The sacrifice is what bound it to you,” he said. He was staring into the fire, his eyes unfocused. He now looked more uncomprehending, as if he couldn't grasp the idea rather than outright not believing it. “It is bound to a dwarf . . .”

 

* * *

 

 

“Can I ask you something without getting an arrow to the face?” Din asked the next morning. Legolas was bent on one knee on the bank of the Long Lake, washing his hands. The cold water started to turn them pink. If he hadn’t been an elf, she would have thought he hadn’t heard her with how unresponsive he was, but as he was an elf, there was no way that was the case. She started to turn on her heel when he finally acknowledged her.

“It would take more than one question to warrant that. An arrow in the foot, perhaps, but not the face. It might take two for that.”

A laugh started to bubble out of her throat but she choked it down. Had he made a joke? “What is it about dwarves that you hate so much?”

He stood pursed his lips, his arms folded tightly over his chest. “I have no answer for that question that would satisfy your curiosity. The mistrust between our races goes too far back.”

Din waved off this argument. “The elves of Rivendell did not seem to have any qualms with us. Is it the rowdiness? Or the drinking? The rowdiness that comes with the drinking? Because Uncle Bofur has told me about human pubs. They're very much the same as our gatherings, from what I gather.”

“It's not just your raucous tendencies, it's the way you neglect the other races and hide yourselves away in your halls with your secrets and lies.”

“Lies? What lies?” Din scoffed. Legolas pointed to her bare chin. “Oh, that . . .,” she mused. She felt her eyes bug. Elrond had agreed not to tell others the truth, but Legolas was hardly an ally. Would he? But he waved her down.

“Your secret is safe. My father would not stoop to spoiling a secret your kind seems adamant about maintaining and no one under his reign would reveal anything that goes on in his keep without his permission.”

Din did not relax. Would they really remain tight-lipped? She shifted uncomfortably. “We do not pretend just to toy with you all, we do it for our safety. We're much smaller, so it would be easy for us to be overpowered if we were outnumbered by a group of . . . rambunctious men. Anyway, it hardly seems either of you elves or men want us around. You all look down on us, both literally and figuratively. Besides, you elves of Mirkwood are equally as secluded. You just admitted it yourself. What else've you got?”

Legolas crinkled his lip in irritation. “You're a greedy bunch as well, and there's no denying that.”

Din crossed her own arms, matching his defensive pose. “I'll give you that. We don't share a lot with the rest of you, but for fairness, we did find our treasure ourselves. No one is keeping you from finding your own mountain to dig into, but it seems you'd rather leave it to us and then complain when we don't give you 'your fair share',” she said. The elf's eyes narrowed and the two fell into angry silence, glaring at one another.

“Are we going to get moving or are you going to try to throw each other into the lake?” Tauriel was standing by her horse, amusement lighting her features. Legolas turned on his heel and marched to his horse, his shoulders tense. Din tried not to smirk.

 

* * *

 

 

As they drew closer and closer to the mountain, the Arkenstone weighed heavily on her mind. She considered countless times just chucking it into the Long Lake. It would do Thorin no harm there. But guilt kept her from doing so. She would be refusing him what he thought was rightfully his. He was not wrong about that, either, but how could she give it to him, knowing that it could drive him into madness? Her mood continued to drop on the last day of their ride to the point that Tauriel even tried to cheer her up by asking questions about dwarven culture to distract her, but all it really did was make her homesick. They rode in silence after that.

Around noon the next day they rode into the ruins of Dale. The crumbled main gate of Erebor could be seen across the expansive field before them and it seemed to take forever to cross the distance. No matter how far they went, the door never seemed to grow any closer until suddenly it towered over them. Up on what remained of the walkway, Gloin had been leaning on the railing, falling asleep on his watch. But as they rode up, he jolted awake. Din held a hand up in a wave.

“Din . . .” He drew back in surprise and after a moment of pause he scurried inside. She could hear his voice echoing around the wide hall, though she could not discern the words. She couldn't help chuckling, regardless. Tauriel helped her off the horse and Din nearly offered her a hug. Instead, however, she stepped back and bowed graciously.

“Thank you for everything,” she said. Unsure of what to say, Tauriel just responded with a bow of her own. Din then turned to Legolas and offered another bow. “I know you did not want to help and that makes me all the more grateful to you for going so far out of your way. Perhaps one day we will meet again under friendlier circumstances,” she said.

“I . . .” It seemed to make him uncomfortable, being shown appreciation from a dwarf. He shifted on his feet. “I hope you're able to convince them to depart. We must be going, however. If there truly is a danger coming, Tauriel and I need to return to my father's rule.” Din nodded and watched as they rode off. Tauriel turned back briefly, her hair a shimmer of red in the sunlight. The elf offered a smile and brandished a hand in a still wave, a gesture the dwarf returned.

In a short time, loud calls echoed around and figures began to spring from the gaping hole that Smaug had created, bounding over the rubble of the stone door. Din beamed and ran to meet them and a wave of dwarves enveloped her in a rush of words she could not distinguish as each took a turn hugging her and patting her roughly on the back and head. Joyful dew dampened her cheeks at being reunited with them and she couldn't stop the laughter that escaped her at seeing their smiles. Bifur, Bofur and Bombur lingered on their hugs, Bombur dabbing away tears with his beard. Only when they had all settled down a little did Bilbo finally step forward. His eyes were glistened over, but she pretended not to notice to avoid embarrassing him. She offered a hug and he accepted it gladly.

“I thought you were gone,” he muttered.

“I can't decide if you're brave or stupid,” Kili said as he tousled her hair. She ducked out of the way, swatting his hand, but moved right into Fili's reach. Her hair was now a tangled mess. Her smile fell away when she noticed the absence of a particular dwarf.

“Where is—“ she spotted Thorin up on the wall, gazing down at them with a scowl on his face. She instantly knew something was wrong. He wore regal attire and watched them with the suspicious scrutiny of a greedy king. Her heart fell and her mind instantly went back to the Arkenstone. She was not brave enough to return it to him. Not if his condition was as bad as it appeared. Her life was at much risk as his.


	27. Chapter 27

Thorin was still on the wall when Din climbed her way up. He did not turn to face her and apprehension halted her step. She was afraid to talk to him. Afraid of what she would find. His shoulders appeared tense beneath the heavy fur adornment of his robes and his hands tightly clenched the fractured stone railing. He was standing far enough away from the gaping hole that the wall had plenty of support, but Din was weary to move over there. He turned his head only slightly to speak.

“You were not permitted to leave your posts.” His voice was a harsh growl. It took a moment for Din to realize he was not speaking to her. She looked over her shoulder at the others, whose expressions all drooped. They almost looked afraid of him. Had Thorin been like this the entire time she had been gone? They started their retreat, but Bofur hesitated, looking at her inquiringly. She nodded to indicate she would be alright on her own, but he still eyed Thorin with the protective eyes of a father-figure before leaving. Now alone, a tense silence filled the distance between the two of them now.

Finally, she stepped forward until she could almost reach out and touch him. “Thorin?” she said quietly. He started to turn and she braced herself for the outburst of anger that was to come at her foolishness for leaping after Smaug. But instead of scolding or rebuking her, he moved forward and wrapped his arms around her. She stopped herself from jumping back in surprise, but it took a moment for her mind to catch up enough to raise her hands to his back. Not once had he ever hugged her before. Butterflies tickled her stomach and she knew her face must have been bright red.

He pulled back, but stayed close to her. “I was afraid I’d lost you. What were you thinking?” There was no anger in his voice, nor in his blue eyes. Just relief.

“I was thinking that I didn’t want any of them to die as a consequence of our quest,” said she. His eyes softened and she saw in them an affection that brought a fresh wave of flusters through her stomach. She averted her gaze but couldn’t stop the corners of her mouth from turning up. Thorin’s hands fell on her shoulders and she stared up at him again.

“I’m glad you’re here. I need your help,” he said. This surprised her. They had reached Erebor and the dragon was dead. What more did he need help with? She mentally slapped herself. The Arkenstone, of course. Her spirits fell and she clenched her fists nervously. Thorin looked over his shoulder as if to verify they were alone and then stooped closer to whisper. A dark suspicious note deepened his voice. “We still have not recovered the Arkenstone. I fear one of them has taken it.”

“What?” Din gaped up at him. “I don’t believe any of them would do that,” she insisted. She ignored the pinch of guilt at knowing that she had done so. But she knew it was not really Thorin who suspected they had taken it. The dragon sickness had to be influencing him, making him distrustful.

“I want you to talk to each of them. See what you can discover.” He started to usher her to the ladder.

“Wait, I need to talk to you,” she said. “When I broke the door to Erebor, the stone showed me a vision of an evil army coming to take Erebor.

His brows pinched. “What sort of army?”

“Orcs no doubt, but there were other things, too. I was too far away to really see what they were.”

With a closed fist, he pressed the knuckle of his index finger to his lip in thought. “I will send word to the Iron Dwarves. They will send aid. From here, we will see any army approaching, so we’ll be ready.” With his decision made, he turned to search for parchment to compose his letter, but Din grabbed hold of his arm.

“Thorin, that may not be enough. In my vision, we had an army. And still, everyone was dead. I don’t even know when the these orcs will come. They may reach here before the Iron Dwarves and then we would only number fifteen. We should go to the Iron Hills ourselves and regroup.”

Thorin was given pause as he considered this. Perhaps he would agree. Perhaps leaving for a while would help him recover from this sickness. He was about to speak when his attention was drawn to something over her head. Anger darkened his features again and he strode around her. She followed his eye to the ruins of Dale. Flurries of movement bustled about the dilapidated stonework. The people of Lake-Town. Din grimaced. Either Bard had not headed her warning or had been unable to stop them from coming. Or perhaps he thought the ruins of Dale were far enough from the mountain that they would be safe?

“We will not abandon Erebor.” Thorin’s voice was gruff, frustrated. Even hateful. “They would occupy it the moment we were out of sight. I will not let the mountain be taken from us again. Go tell the others what’s happened.” When she hesitated, he turned and grabbed her arm. “Go! And find the Arkenstone. I will not let them take it from me.” It was unclear whether he meant the men of Lake-Town or his own comrades. More than likely it was both.

 

* * *

 

 

Sleep came patchy and restless that night. When the sun finally crawled above the horizon, the only indication was the occasional scuffling of the others’ boots about the halls. She had secluded herself in a room, fretting and fretting about what was to come. She could think of no solution. She had not told the others what was coming. It was wrong of her, but if they tried to talk Thorin into leaving, he would assume they were turning against him. After seeing the hatred and suspicion in his eyes, she feared he would lock them all in the dungeon. They would be defenseless, then.

Her stomach was starting to growl. A chuckle at the door startled her and she spun to find Bilbo standing in the archway, holding a bowl of something that smelled delicious. The silence with which hobbits moved was remarkable. “I thought I’d never find you hiding away in your little hole,” he teased.

“You’re the one who lives in a hole,” she grumbled.

Bilbo grinned and sat in front of her. “You should eat.” He set a bowl of stew before her and pulled a spoon from his pocket. She accepted it without argument.

“Has everyone else already eaten?” She asked. Bilbo nodded and they fell into silence while she started to eat. A worried expression muddled his features and anxiety pinched her stomach. She didn’t want to talk, but knew he would ask.

“Why are you hiding in here?”

She didn’t answer right away and instead focused on her food. Only when the bowl was empty did she set it aside and frown at the ground between them. “Something is wrong. I mean, I know what’s wrong, I just . . . I don’t know what to do about it. I just keep thinking that we should have stayed back home.”

Bilbo sighed. “I’ve thought that many times. With the trolls, in the goblin cave, in Mirkwood; I kept thinking that I never should have walked out my door. When I met you all I thought you were all a bunch of pesky dwarves pulling me along on some petty quest. But I’ve grown to care about every one of you and if you hadn’t dragged me along, I’d still be in my hole worrying about doilies and handkerchiefs all by myself. I just keep reminding myself that I’ll find my way home someday soon.”

Din’s mind flicked to the decimated battlefield in her vision. Her nose tingled with the threat of crying and she squeezed her hands together, taking a deep breath to stop herself. “I . . . I can’t see the way back home, Bilbo.” He didn’t seem to know how to respond for a little while, but eventually, he pulled something from his pocket. Din scrunched her brows in confusion when she saw the acorn. She glanced at him but was drawn to the figure behind him.

“You found who has it?” Thorin asked. He moved to pull Bilbo from the floor and Bilbo scurried out of the way in confused panic at Thorin’s rage. Din bolted to her feet and held him back.

“Thorin, stop! That’s not what’s happening.”

He glanced from her to Bilbo. “Then show me what’s in your hand.” Bilbo extended his arm to show him the acorn and surprise softened Thorin’s angry features.

“I picked it up in Beorn’s garden.”

“You’ve carried it all this way?” Thorin’s voice had grown soft. A light returned to him that Din had been hoping to see upon her return. Relief and a deep-found love warmed her at once again being face-to-face with the real Thorin.

“I’m going to plant it in my garden in Bag End.”

Thorin laughed sadly. “It’s a poor price to take back to the Shire.”

“One day it’ll grow,” Bilbo said with a little grin. “And every time I look at it I’ll remember. Remember everything that happened—the good, the bad—and know how lucky I am that I made it home.” He glanced at Din and she realized that this was the point he’d been trying to make. To give her a little hope. And that it did. She watched the smile on Thorin’s face and decided there had to be something she could do. She might not be able to save everyone, but she had to try.

 

* * *

 

 

“Alright.” Din’s voice echoed around the empty stone room. She gripped the Silmaril tightly in her hand as she paced. “You’ve shown me what is to come, now please, show me how to help them. Show me what we’re dealing with.” She stopped pacing and held the gem up, gazing into its glimmering depths. “Show me. Show me . . .” The stone gave a little flicker, but nothing happened. But she couldn’t give up, so she continued to stare into it for a long time, refusing to surrender. Finally its light grew brighter and waking dreams overtook her mind.

The stone walls around her fell away and she was standing in the barren field. No bodies cluttered the ground around her. Instead, she turned to find an army of dwarves at her back ready to defend Erebor. An army of elves stood ready to face them, but both legions faltered in surprise when a loud crashing erupted from the mountains beside Dale. Large worms had burst from their depths, creating passages from which orcish abominations poured. Suddenly, Din was standing once again atop her wall in Dale and from here, she could see a second wave emerge from the newly created tunnels. They headed straight for Dale, where Din realized they would find the survivors of Lake-Town. What was their purpose here? To divide their numbers?

A warm hand touched hers, fingers entwining with her own and she found Thorin suddenly at her side. His lips spread in an affectionate grin and he gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. Her name drifted through the air and she looked around, confused. Then the vision fell away and she was standing once again in Erebor. Bilbo stood before her and the panic on his face eased into relief.

“I’ve been trying to get your attention for several minutes! Y-you weren’t responding, you just, you were just staring at the wall—” he stammered.

Din gripped his shoulders to stop him. “Bilbo, I need to talk to everyone. We’re in danger.”

“That’s why I came to get you. Everyone is on the wall. Elves must have arrived in Dale last night and now they’re positioning themselves on their wall and I fear they will attack. Thorin has barricaded the gate.” Din was not surprised to hear that elves had arrived, given her vision, but the situation still sounded dire. They sprinted through the dark halls to the main gate. He hadn’t been joking about barricading it. The rubble was piled back up, an impassable door.

“How long was I back there?” She asked, gaping.

“A long time,” Bilbo whispered. They climbed to the top where the others all stood, watching Dale. Bofur was frowning at the rising strain of the situation. Fighting goblins or orcs was one thing, but she knew neither he, Bombur, nor Bifur had ever been fond of the idea of war. When he saw her he ushered her to his side, between him and Bombur. Golden armor glinted in the sunlight all along the walls of Dale. On the road below, Din spotted a white horse sprinting toward Erebor. Its rider had shoulder length dark hair and she could think of only one person who would ride to Erebor alone in such a situation.

“What is Bard thinking?” she muttered in frustration.


	28. Chapter 28

“Thorin, son of Thrain, we are glad to find you alive beyond all hope,” Bard called up to them.

Thorin’s suspicions were not eased by the nicety. “Why do you come to the gates of Erebor armed for war?”

“Why does the King Under the Mountain fence himself in like a robber in his hold?”

“Perhaps it is because I am expecting to be robbed.”

“My lord, we have not come to rob you, but to seek fair settlement.” Thorin pondered Bard’s words. “Will you not speak with me?” Bard asked. Thorin gave a brief nod and moved to the ladder while Bard dismounted. Din turned to follow but Bofur caught her arm.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“I need to speak with Bard. I warned him not to come here.”

Confusion muddled Bofur’s expression and Kili stepped to his side. “Warned him of what?” he asked just as Bofur was about to. The rest were looking on with curious faces and she decided she could not lie to them anymore.

“Because we’re all in danger here. I wanted to spare the people of Lake-Town further suffering so I warned him to stay away.” She quickly explained the vision she’d had when she’d opened the secret door to Erebor and then rushed for the ladder to meet Bard before he left. The others followed and down below, Thorin was speaking angrily through a hole the dwarves had fashioned in the wall likely for this purpose.

“Tell me, ‘Bard the Dragon-Slayer’,” Thorin spat. Din clenched her fingers into fists.There was no reason to make light of what Bard had done. Or what she and Bain had done, for that matter. They had risked their lives to bring down that beast and Lake-Town had still been lost. “Why should I honor such terms?”

“Because you gave us your word. Does that mean nothing?”

This actually gave Thorin pause. He stepped away from the window and braced his back against the heavy stone of the gate. But the change was coming quicker, now. Greed and anger took him again. “Be gone!” he shouted. “Ere our arrows fly!” Din heard Bard hit the wall with an angry grunt and probably turned to leave. This was her only chance, then.

“Bard, wait!” she called after him. Thorin’s glance narrowed on her and he stepped into her path.

“Din, is that you?”

“What do you think you are doing?” Thorin demanded.

Din glared up at him and for a moment he actually looked taken aback. “You may not have heeded my warning but they still can,” she said as she gestured beyond the gate. “If you do not step out of my way, then I will go over the wall. Those people have lost enough already.” They faced off for a few moments, will against will, until Thorin’s jaw clenched and he begrudgingly stepped aside. Din braced her hands on the cold stone as she peered through the diamond shaped hole. Through the lengthy corridor she found Bard’s face, hard and frustrated.

“There must be something you can do,” he insisted.

“I thought I already had. You’re all in danger here, just like I told you before I left.”

“I know, but there was nothing I could do to stop them. They would have come without me and I cannot abandon them when they need me most. But if you do not convince your king to abide by our bargain, the elves will attack. Neither of us wants that.”

“Not if you convince Thranduil there is a bigger threat. An army of orcs and abominations are coming to claim this mountain.”

Bard’s eyes widened a bit, his brows hard with stern surprise. “That’s the threat? An army?”

“Yes, you must convince your people to leave or you will lose even more.”

Bard’s lips pursed and he looked over his shoulder at the city far behind. “Alright,” he said turning to her once more. “I will speak with Thranduil. If he believes me and agrees to fight with you rather than against you I will light three beacons on the wall as a signal. But if I cannot, you would be wise to be prepared for battle on the morrow. I will not be able to stop him.”

Din nodded. “I understand. Thank you.” He turned on his heel and strode back to his horse. Din found the rest of the company was staring at her and for a moment she felt sheepish under their anxious glances, but when she saw the anger on Thorin’s face her resolve built up anew to match his.

“The rest of you, make ready in the armory. Din, we need to talk.” His voice turned gruff when he addressed her and he stalked off through the cavernous room. She followed him to the massive throne room and watched as he stared up at the fractured throne. As she stepped closer, he turned his head just enough to glance back at her through his peripherals. “Explain what just happened,” he ordered.

“What happened is I may have found a way to pacify the elves.”

“Not that, speaking against me. Openly defying me.”

Din folded her arms across her chest stubbornly. “If that’s truly how you feel I am behaving, then why not throw me in the dungeon?”

“That is an excellent question.” His eyes burned when he glared down on her, circles of blue fire against the nearly colorless room. “I keep asking myself, ‘If you were anyone else, would I have done so already?’ You appear to keep forgetting that I am your king.”

Anger boiled in her chest. “You have always been my king!” She shouted. “The difference is that before reclaiming this forsaken mountain, you cared for more in the world than just gold. But somewhere along the way, you stopped fighting this sickness and you forgot about all of that. The Thorin I know, the Thorin I love would never have considered risking all of our lives for a treasure horde.” Thorin’s features went slack the moment the word ‘love’ slipped through her lips. “When I look at you now, all I see is gold.”

The sadness she felt was reflected in his face and her throat tightened. She turned away, images of happier times replaying through her mind, but mostly her mind lingered on the things that had made him smile like listening to the wild drinking songs the others had sung over the years or calm conversations she’d seen him have with his sister. It was the same smile she had seen while talking with Bilbo about his acorn. Even in her dream he had stood beside her, smiling, but it was becoming more and more apparent that it had been nothing more than a wishful figment.

Back up on the wall the others were rummaging through the armory on the far right. Instead of joining them she perched herself beside the fragmented section they had put back together, her gaze locked on Dale. No signals had been lit on the wall. Her stomach sank into a pit, even though she had not expected Thranduil to change his mind so quickly.

A curtain of blond hair moved into her peripheral and she dipped her head down to hide her face. A bowl of stew was set in front of her and she forced herself to eat it. Fili waited until she was done before speaking. “Visions, eh? And all those years we thought it was just a pretty rock,” said he.

“I can’t breathe, Fili. Everytime I think about actually being in a battle, I can’t breathe. Is that normal?”

“I’ve never been in a battle of the size you described, but yes. It’s never easy to throw yourself into harm’s way. I doubt it was easy to jump on the dragon’s back, for instance.”

Din let out a dry laugh. “No, it was most definitely not easy.” The sinking sun was beginning to cast hues of orange and pink across the field. Even in it’s barren state, it was difficult to imagine such a beautiful sight being the scene of a horrible battle. But when she thought about the absence of any signal fires, her stomach clenched so tight that she thought she might be sick. “I don’t know what to do, Fili,” Fili’s blue eyes softened empathetically and he clamped a hand onto her shoulder.

“Don’t stand out here all night, alright? You need rest for tomorrow.”

“I was about to suggest the same thing.” Bilbo’s bare feet slapped the stone as he approached holding a bundle of blankets and a bedroll. “I won’t bother trying to convince you to leave the wall, so I thought I would bring these over.” Before Din could refuse to be fussed over, he started to lay them out.

“There’s no point arguin’, Din.” Fili plopped a hand onto her head and ruffled her hair.

“Cut it out!” She swatted his hand away and he laughed jovially. While she untangled her hair he turned to head back to the armory. She then helped Bilbo with the blankets.

“Now, I will stand watch while you rest and we will take turns.” He crossed his arms over his chest to indicate that there was to be no debate. Looking at the pseudo bed they had set up, she suddenly realized how heavy her eyes felt.

“Alright, but you promise you will wake me in a few hours?” she asked. Bilbo nodded and she resigned. She settled under the layers of blankets feeling lousy. “I feel like all of this is my fault. If I hadn’t opened that accursed door, if I’d let them give up, then we all would have gone home and none of this would have happened. Smaug would have remained asleep and Lake-Town would not have burned down and we wouldn’t be staring into the face of war. And Thorin . . .” Her mind drifted back to that night in Ered Luin when he had helped her wash dishes. Her king had helped her wash dishes. Now they could hardly pull him away from his throne, let alone fight with him in the battle to come. Din’s nose tingled but she sniffed it away. “In a way, I did this to him.”

Bilbo did not speak for a little while. When he did, his voice was hardly audible. “He loves you, Din. We’ve all seen it. I won’t pretend to know how to help him, but I do not think we should give up on him, either.” Din let his words sink in. No, she did not want to give up on Thorin. He still had time to come around. Her vision repeated in her dreams that night, even the part of Thorin standing at her side. Some time later, she was awoken by someone shaking her shoulders.

“Din!”

She sprung awake and stared up into Bofur’s wide eyes. Looking around, the rest of the dwarves stood along the wall in proper plate mail, armed for battle. “What’s the matter? Where’s Bilbo?” she asked.

“We don’t know, but they elves are marching on the gate.” Bofur helped her stand and gestured out to the field where a legion of elves advanced toward them, their golden armor glinting brilliantly in the orange light of dawn. Din’s heart nearly stopped and she gripped the wall tightly. There were far too many. Perhaps Thorin would surrender when he realized they had no hope of fighting back. When he came up to the wall, however, his expression was one of hatred and anger, not of yielding. He glanced at her only briefly, still looking miffed about their argument.

The elvish army halted just before the door, and down below Din spotted Thranduil atop a great elk, whose antlers spanned at least eight feet. As impressive and imposing as it was she wondered how the thing had fit between the tight-knit trees of Mirkwood. Bard rode at his side and Din couldn’t help but clench her hands into fists as they approached through the lines. When they neared the stone bridge, Thorin drew an arrow into a dwarven bow from the armory and fired it at the elk’s feet. Thranduil and Bard halted their mounts.

“I will put the next one between your eyes,” Thorin declared. The company cheered their agreement rowdily until the first platoon of elves readied their own bows in unison. Bofur pulled Din bellow the brim of the wall as all but Thorin ducked. After a tense moment, she heard the clatter of a hundred troops resuming rested positions. Din started to stand along with the others.

“We have come to inform you that payment of your debt has been offered and accepted.” Thranduil’s voice drifted up to them smugly. Whatever they had, he felt they had the upper hand in this deal.

“What payment?” Thorin demanded. “I gave you nothing. You have nothing.” Thranduil looked to Bard who, begrudgingly, reached into his tunic and pulled out a glowing stone. Din’s breath caught and she pinched her eyes closed. That was why Bilbo had wanted her to fall asleep. He’d come up with a last desperate plan to prevent the battle. He must have seen her take it from the mountain.

“We have this,” said Bard as he brandished it high for them to see. Din risked a glance at Thorin. His blue eyes were transfixed on it, unable to look away.

“They have the Arkenstone . . .” Kili breathed. “Thieves! How came you by the heirloom of our house? That stone belongs to the king!”

“And the king may have it with our good will.” Bard tucked it once again into his tunic. “But first, he must honor his word.”

Thorin shook his head. “They are taking us for fools,” he muttered to the company. “This is a ruse. A filthy lie. The Arkenstone is in this mountain! It is a trick!”

“It’s no trick . . .” Din’s heart stopped at the small voice and she stepped back to peer around the others as Bilbo moved between them. “The stone is real. I gave it to them.” Thorin’s features darkened and he turned all his loathsome hate onto the hobbit. Even with how small Bilbo looked in that moment, he did not shrink away.


	29. Chapter 29

“You?” The feeling of betrayal and sadness in Thorin’s voice was painful to hear, though she could not see his face. Bilbo was probably the last person Thorin would have suspected, perhaps even over Din considering the way things had darkened between Thorin and her. Bilbo looked incredibly nervous now, under his scrutiny.

“I took it as my 14th share,” he said.

“You would steal from me?” A warning note blackened Thorin’s tone.

“Steal from you? No,” Bilbo said with a grin. “No, I may be a burglar, but I like to think I’m an honest one. I am willing to let it stand against my claim.”

“Against your claim?” Thorin questioned. “Your claim. You have no claim over me you miserable rat!” He threw his bow to the ground angrily and it clanged against the stone loudly. Bilbo’s eye slid past him to Din for a moment and she felt her breath stop.

“I was going to give it to you,” he said, mirroring her own thoughts regarding the stone. They had never discussed it, but it likely wasn’t difficult to figure out why she had kept it from Thorin. But the fact that the hobbit was taking the fall for it made her chest tighten so badly that she felt she might scream. Bilbo looked to her again and she knew he saw the sadness on her face, but he shook his head. “Many times I wanted to, but . . .”

“But what, thief?”

Bilbo’s voice started to rise in anger. “You are changed, Thorin. The dwarf I met in Bag End would never have gone back on his word. Would never have doubted the loyalty of his kin!”

“Do not speak to me of loyalty.” Thorin glared hatefully at the hobbit and then he glanced at Dwalin, Oin, Gloin, and Bombur, who were standing behind Bilbo. “Throw him from the rampart.” Din inhaled sharply and Bilbo’s eyes bugged, but of course no one moved to obey the order. Thorin spun to face the rest of the company and the fury on his face made Din backpedal until she bumped into Fili. The King’s lips curled and he reached forward to grab Fili’s arm. “Did you not hear me?!” He shouted, wrenching him forward so harshly that Din would have been knocked to the ground if Fili hadn’t wrapped his arm around her waist to hold her upright. He wrestled his arm away and Thorin stared at them incredulously.

“Are you okay?” Fili muttered to her. She could not answer. Thorin whirled back around, his eyes fixing on Bilbo, and he rushed forward.

“I’ll do it myself. Curse you!” He grabbed fistfulls of Bilbo’s tunic and started pulling him toward the wall. The dwarves rushed forward to stop him with pleas of “No!”

“Curse the wizard that forced you on this company!” Thorin shouted as Fili, Bofur, and Gloin did what they could to grapple Bilbo from his grip.

A loud voiced boomed down on them like thunder, startling all but Thorin, who pressed Bilbo to one of the large bricks. “If you do not like my burglar, then don’t damage him,” Gandalf shouted, his voice magically amplified. He stepped into view from between the elven ranks. “Return him to me.” Thorin’s attention was drawn to the wizard and he was distracted enough to at least stop trying to hurl Bilbo to his death. “You’re not making a very splendid figure as King under the Mountain, are you, Thorin, son of Thrain?”

Thorin released Bilbo, who scuttled to the floor. Din rushed forward, along with Bofur, to help him stand. While Thorin yelled down to Gandalf, Din followed Bilbo to a rope tied to a bearing on the wall, likely what he had used to get down during the night and back up just now. Din pulled the halfling into a hug.

“Why did you do that? You didn’t take the stone, I did,” she asked quietly, on the verge of tears.

Bilbo wrapped shaking arms around her. “There was no point in selling you out, as well.”

“There’s no time,” Bofur interrupted, looking cautiously over his shoulder. Din nodded and ushered Bilbo to the rope. He threw it over and began his climb down the wall. She peered after him, her chest swelling with the need to act.

“I’m going with him,” Din declared. All eyes moved to her, even Thorin’s. She knew loyalty would keep any of the rest from leaving until Thorin gave the word, but she could wait no longer.

“What do you mean?” Bofur asked, frowning deeply.

“You would stand against us?” Kili asked.

“Of course not, don’t be ridiculous,” Din said with a roll of her eyes. “I’m going because standing up here is getting me no closer to preventing my vision from happening. No one else needs to come, but I can’t stay here.” She looked up at Bofur who was fixed on her with pleading eyes.

“You don’t have to do this. You’ve done enough already, this is not your responsibility.”

She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his middle. “Yes, it is. I want to do everything I can to keep everyone safe and I can’t do that up here. I won’t be alone, don’t worry. I love you, Uncle,” she said. Allowed herself to listen to his heartbeat for a few pulses and then stepped around him to where the rope dangled over the wall. When she stepped up, balancing on the angled stone, a hand grabbed her wrist.

“Don’t leave me,” Thorin pleaded, his eyes wide and his eyebrows scrunched in fear. In that moment, she knew she was seeing the real Thorin once again. She placed her hands on the fur-covered shoulders of his royal garb.

“Who knows when the orcs will arrive. It can’t be long now. This is the only way I know to help any of you, now.” Not allowing herself any more time to hesitate, she reached down to pick up the rope.

“Din, please,” Thorin said. The lass positioned herself to begin climbing down when Thorin drew his sword, giving her pause. Fili prevented Bofur from leaping in the way as Thorin swung the blade at the rope’s origin point. It grew heavy as all of it’s weight now rested in Din’s grip. She let it fall, slipping over the wall and descending toward the mote below. Thorin looked back at her, relieved at thinking he had prevented her from leaving. She just smiled sadly and drew her own sword. It gleamed bright with the Silmaril’s light, further illuminating the dwarves’ features even in broad daylight. Thorin’s lips parted, but no words came out. 

“Join me when you can,” Din said. She stepped back off the wall, watching them all scramble forward for her before the wall obscured her view of them. Wind wisped her hair above her head as she fell. At this point her natural fear of falling to her death was becoming somewhat dampened. The mine, swinging from the upper tier of the goblin cave down to the center, falling from the burning tree during the warg attack, leaping onto Smaug’s back thrice; it was now becoming a sort of routine for her to be suspended in the air like this. It was actually rather exhilarating.

Once she neared the bottom, she raised her sword and jammed it at the wall, it’s hot blade passing through the rock much easier than it had Smaug’s iron scales. It actually continued to slide through, releasing sparks as her momentum lessened. She willed the Silmaril’s power back out of the sword and as it cooled, her speed slowed until she came to a stop. The blade was properly wedged into the mountain now. At closer inspection, she realized the metal had actually started to melt from the heat and was now an irregular shape, molded to the stone. So, Din let go of the handle and landed on one of the segments of the broken statue that had fallen into the moat, close to the rope that was now in a useless heap.

Bilbo was scampering over as she hopped across the statue. “What are you doing?” he asked frantically. Din sprinted around him, placing a hand on his shoulder to redirect him so he would follow.

Bard looked to her with relief at her approach. “Have you come with a peace offering?”

“Please, don’t do this.” Din stepped closer to Thranduil’s creature, feeling properly belittled by it’s massive stature. The elf’s glance only flickered to her for a moment before fixing once again on the gate.

“Do not think I have forgotten your slight, dwarf. If you are alive when this matter is settled, be warned; I will hold you accountable.”

Bard gazed up at the dwarves again as well. “Are we resolved? The return of the Arkenstone for what was promised? Will you have peace or war?”

Glancing up against the bright morning light, Din found Thorin looking out at the hill to the east. The sound of hundreds of sets of footfalls and the clanking of metal told her what was coming even before the heads of the front lines of the Iron Dwarves peeked over the top. Their leader, Dain Ironfoot, rode out in front on a boar. The company above started cheering for their allies and Thranduil rode off among his troops, instructing them to change direction with Bard following behind. Din looked desperately to Gandalf.

“Is there nothing you can do to stop this?” she pleaded. As a female dwarf, her word would hold little sway with Dain. Thorin may have allowed her on this journey, but the Iron Dwarves would not listen to her regarding matters of war. “Please, there are orcs—”

“I know,” Gandalf interrupted. She could see a pensive scowl beneath the wizard’s grey beard and he ushered both she and Bilbo through the elvish lines marching to face the dwarves.

“Who is that?” Bilbo asked. “He doesn’t look very happy.”

“It is Dain, Lord of the Iron Hills. Thorin’s cousin,” Gandalf explained.

“Are they alike?” The hobbit asked.

“I’ve always found Thorin the more reasonable of the two,” Gandalf grumbled. Din felt her breath quickening as she tried to keep up with his long strides and by the time they reached the front of the army, Dain was addressing his enemy in true dwarvish manner, insults and all.

“All of you, stand fast!” Bard called to his own troops. Din had not noticed before that the men of Lake-Town were tucked in the middle of the elvish army, but they seemed intimidated by Dain. Not surprising, given the brutish reputation of the dwarves. Bilbo nudged Din between some of the men and they watched the scene from the second row, still mostly out of sight.

“Come now, Lord Dain,” Gandalf greeted.

“Gandalf the Grey,” Dain offered in acknowledgement. “Tell this rabble to leave, or I’ll water the ground with their blood!”

“There is no need for war between dwarves, men, and elves,” Gandalf insisted. He strode closer to Dain so they could speak more easily. “A legion of orcs march on the mountain. Stand your army down.”

“I will not stand down before any elf. Not least this faithless woodland sprite. He wishes nothing but ill upon my people. If he chooses to come between me and my kin, I’ll split his pretty head open! See if he’s still smirking then,” Dain spat.

“He’s clearly mad, like his cousin,” Thranduil retorted.

“You hear that lads?” Dain said. he turned his steed around to rally his troops, but Din was distracted by a sudden pain in her leg. She gasped in surprise and pain as the silmaril burned through her pocket and clattered to the ground. It shone brightly, disorienting the men around her, and she stooped to scoop it up. It was hot to the touch, even to her and seemed to be burning with a wrath that could only be reserved for true evil. Terror gripped her and she ducked around the men in front of her, avoiding their swords as they readied themselves. The dwarvish army was positioning themselves as well, but she couldn’t bring herself to care about that at the moment.

“Gandalf!” She shrieked above the racket. The wizard turned to her in surprise. “They’re here!” A low rumble preceded the moaning of some dark, enormous creature. Massive worms burst through the mountain range close to Dale, leaving tunnels as they retracted. The terrible blare of an orcish horn sounded and trails of orcs bled from the mountain.

Dain rode toward the black legion and the first platoon of his army moved to follow. “The hordes of hell are upon us! To battle! To battle, sons of Durin!”

“The elves,” Bilbo muttered. “Will they not fight?” Indeed, the elves were making no motion to give the dwarves aid. Gandalf found Thranduil’s steed standing tall over his army and hastened toward him, Din and Bilbo on his heels.

“Thranduil, this is madness!”

“Why?” Thranduil asked. “Why should I sacrifice the lives of my people for this?” The elven king asked. Din pushed around Gandalf and glared up at the elf.

“I could have tricked you by not telling you about this and then your troops would have been stuck in this battle regardless to aid us, but instead I tried to do the right thing. I tried to give you enough time to pull your men out by sending Bard with my warning but you chose not to listen. Now I can only hope that you, too, will do the right thing and help us.” The elf’s blue eyes drifted down to the stone in her hand, gleaming bright, and he clenched his eyes closed, grimacing. He turned to his troops speaking in elvish and they charged forward like a sea of gold behind the dwarves.

The terrible horn sounded again and Din could hear the war chant of the orcs in the distance. “Azog,” Gandalf conceived. “He’s trying to cut us off. Divide our numbers.” Din’s breath caught. All the women and children would still be in Dale, helpless against the orcs.

“All of you, fall back to Dale! Now!” Bard ordered his men. Gandalf, Din, and Bilbo followed suit, running along-side them. Her feet pounded the ground and she willed them to move faster, not allowing herself to linger on the fact that she did not currently have a blade. She hesitated when she spotted Bard’s white horse galloping over.

“Din,” he called over. He held a hand out to her to pull her onto the horse, looking to her with pleading eyes. He wanted her help. Wanted her to fight at his side again. Din looked to Gandalf and Bilbo, not wanting to leave them behind.

“Yes, go!” Gandalf spurred. She accepted Bard’s hand and he hoisted her up. The speed with which the horse ran nearly knocked her off again, but she held fast to Bard’s waist and they reached the city quickly. However, the orcs had already breached the wall over on the left as they galloped across the stone bridge. People scurried around them as Bard rode through the city and both dismounted quickly when he stopped.

“My children! Where are my children?” Bard asked desperately.

“I saw them! They were down in the old market!” A woman answered.

“Bard!” Some of the men had arrived and were now streaming down the nearby alley, looking to Bard for leadership. “Orcs are storming over the causeway!”

“Get the bowmen to the eastern parapet. Hold them off as long as you can,” Bard said. The men rallied and several, likely the bowmen, ran off to follow the order. After a quick analysis of his men’s gear, he plucked a spare short sword from one of the men and handed it to Din. She accepted it with a nod.

“The orcs have taken Stone Street! The market’s overrun!” another man cried. Fear overtook Bard’s face.

“The rest of you, with me!” Bard instructed. Din and the rest of the men followed him through the winding streets until they reached a stream of armored orcs. In the moments before meeting her first opponent, her heart felt as if it would pound out of her chest. She emblazoned her sword and used the adrenaline surging through her arms to her advantage, despite how they shook. The orcs seemed taken aback by the glow of her sword, but her first challenger seemed more surprised still when her blade passed through the blade of his jagged sword, leaving it a stump. She used his hesitation and ran him through.

She was unsure where Bard had gone to, but when next she looked, she could not spot him. Orcs continued to fall at her sword, but no matter how many she killed, more took their places. A particularly large orc charged her and when she tried to weave around it, fingers coiled into her hair and yanked harshly. Din let out a cry but, remembering the stone’s reaction to evil, pressed it to the creature’s face. It released her, wailing in pain. Suddenly something slammed into her back and she was knocked to the ground. Feet kicked her in a number of places, most of them unintentional as men and orcs stormed around oblivious to her on the ground. The orc she had burned used this moment to advance, but a flurry of wind sprouted between them and a figure appeared with a loud crack. The orc fell, dead.

Arthenon turned to face her and Din scuttled back as she gasped for the air that had been knocked from her lungs. The elf stepped forward, but did not extend his blade to her. Instead, he offered her a hand. She met his hazel eyes and felt her own widen in surprise. This was no deception.

“I will help you just this once. Whatever hate I have for you, I hate these abominations more.”


	30. Chapter 30

“How do I know this isn’t a trick? You could kill me the moment I turn my back,” Din pointed out. The flurry of wind returned, but this time it encircled both of them, keeping the orcs and men outside at bay to give them a moment to talk.

Arthenon pursed his lips together and clenched the hand he had extended to her into a frustrated fist. “Because I can’t take the stone from you! For whatever reason the bloody thing chose you. It’s purpose is to destroy evil, so that’s what we’ll do.”

“Din!” Outside the vortex behind her, Bard watched her with wide eyes, probably afraid that this strange elf was trying to kill her. Arthenon was not wearing the elven armor that Thranduil’s troops were, so there was nothing to indicate what side he was on.

“Let him in,” Din insisted. Arthenon rolled his eyes and turned to pull Bard inside.

Bard rushed forward and reached down to help her stand. “Are you alright?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

“Who is that?” he asked, eying Arthenon cautiously.

“It’s a long story. We have a battle to fight.” Din nodded to the elf and stood in front of the barrier. On the other side, several orcs stood, waiting for an opportunity. Her heart rate picked up until her arms shook with adrenaline and fear. Glancing around, she realized that the men of Lake-Town had been pushed back further down the alley. Far enough that . . .

“Duck!” she shouted to Bard and Arthenon. They did so and the moment Arthenon released the vortex, she sent a burst of flames from the stone the way she had on the shore of the Long Lake. Every orc that had been waiting for them now scrambled in pain as the fire seemed to cling to them the way Gandalf’s fire had clung to the orcs when they had been trapped up that tree. Was it because the stone was meant to fight such things?

Could she aim it in one direction, she wondered? As Bard and Arthenon began dispatching the distracted orcs, Din faced down the other alley and the orcs storming toward them. They were being funneled awfully nicely. She thrust the stone forward, imagining what she wanted to happen, and a stream of flames shot nearly thirty feet through their ranks, burning almost every orc. The three of them now sprinted among them, killing all but the ones who had already burned to death at the back. For hours the battle raged and they continued to move about the city. She had to be more careful in most places, as there were men and even some of Thranduil’s elves among the orcs. She did not want to risk burning them, too, so she kept the stone in her pocket once more. She fought her way up to the wall to get a look at the battlefield below. The dwarven forces were backed against the gate of Erebor. There had to be something they could do.

“Din!” Along the wall scuttled a short little hobbit.

“Bilbo!” She grinned, relieved to see he was still alright as he scampered to her side and then braced his hands on his knees to catch his breath.

“I picked this from Bard’s pocket.” He held up the Arkenstone, glimmering in the sunlight, and Din’s breath caught. “I . . . I hoped that if I got them past this gold settlement then they would work together against the orcs in your vision. I know it was foolish, but I had to do something.”

“I know.” Din offered a smile that made Bilbo chuckle, albeit anxiously. He reached forward and took her hand, pressing the stone into her grip.

“Return this to Thorin with my apologies.”

“You make it sound as if you will never see him again.”

Bilbo shook his head. “I do not think he would be happy to see me after what I did. Not in the state he’s in.”

Sadness brought a tingle to Din’s nose. “He will come back. I have to believe he will come back.” A loud horn blared across the field, startling Din. It was not the horrible sound of the orcs’ horns that she had been hearing, but a clean sound. A few notes of the song of Durin. When it finished, something burst through the rubble piled at the door to Erebor. Though she could not see them from this distance, she could only guess that the company was finally joining the battle. The dwarf army flooded forward again against the orcs.

Din lifted her sword against footsteps to their right but found only Gandalf sprinting their way.

“The dwarves, they’re rallying,” Bilbo explained. Gandalf beamed.

“They’re rallying to their king,” he said. Din’s heart was lifted with joy and she veered around the pair to rejoin the battle. Bard’s forces fought their way through the left side of the city to a wide street of homes where there was now plenty of room for Din to let out the occasional burst of fire without harming anyone on her side. Around orcs she wove, using her small stature to her advantage and slashing her emblazoned blade at anything it could reach. The orcs were thinning, but there was still no end in sight.

“Din!” Up on the wall, Bilbo gestured toward the mountain range to the west of the city. She couldn’t see what had his attention, so she sprinted between the many tall figures and scampered up the weathered stairs back up to the wall. She found Bilbo and Gandalf on the wide flat section of the wall next to an old guard house.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

Bilbo pointed once again to the mountains. Four mountain goats ridden by dwarves were riding up the side to the outpost on top of the mountain. “It’s Thorin.”

“And Fili, and Kili, and Dwalin,” Gandalf amended. Din moved around the hobbit for a better view. Was Azog up there? It was the only reason she could think of for Thorin to be bringing his strongest fighters. Her mind turned back to the latest dream she’d had, of Thorin standing at her side. Was that the key, somehow? She doubted the stone was sentimental. It wouldn’t have just shown that to her because it was something she wanted to see, would it? If she joined him up there, would that help end the battle with fewer casualties? She spun to the battle below her, searching for any sign of Arthenon. There was no point, of course. It was impossible to pick out one figure in the writhing mess of war.

The dwarf lass looked down at the Silmaril in her hand. Since the elf could sense the stone, could she use it to call him to her in a way? She gripped it tighter, directing her anxiety at it. It gave a flicker and she couldn’t help but feel that it was trying to sympathise with her. But the elf did not come. It was a long shot, anyway. Would he be able to tell if the mood of the stone changed or was it just a constant kind of signal that just told him where it was? Fear gripped Din’s stomach.

“What is it, dwarf?”

Din gasped in surprise and spun around. Arthenon looked annoyed, but at least he was here. “Can you send me somewhere like that?” she asked. His eyes narrowed.

“I do not know. I’ve never tried. Where exactly do you need to go?”

“My king is up there, confronting the leader of the orc army.” She pointed up the mountain toward the watchtower. “Can you try to send me up there?”

The elf scrunched his brows. He pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath, then waved his hand wind gently began to swirl around her. “I can try. It’ll feel odd, so don’t be surprised if you lose your breakfast. Took a long time to get used to.”

Din nodded. “Alright. Just do it.” The elf gestured again as he used the spell and nausea turned her stomach quickly as vertigo took hold of her. It felt as if the world were spinning, but she could see it wasn’t. It was disorienting, so she closed her eyes. The spinning sensation worsened and worsened and then finally lessened. She opened her eyes and found herself amidst different ruins, a small suburban area that must have housed the families of the guards that had stood watch up here. She did indeed lose the contents of her stomach, but as there hadn’t exactly been time to stop for lunch during the battle, it was already more or less empty.

She wove through the structure to where she heard the sounds of a fight. Din navigated her way through the small maze of decimated structures until she found the border, alongside a frozen river. A handful of orcs had ambushed the four dwarves, but she arrived in time to see Thorin pull his sword from one of the monstrosities’ chest. She crossed her arms over her chest and smiled, leaning against the crumbling archway.

“Glad to see you didn’t lose your touch while you were sitting on your backside up there,” she jested. Kili found this amusing, as a sputtered laugh escaped him. Surprise tightened Thorin’s shoulders beneath his blue tunic as he turned to find her.

“Din?” After only a moment of gazing at her inquiringly, he sheathed his sword and strode over and wrapped his arms around her. His warmth enveloped her and any thought of battle or danger left her as she embraced him. “I feared I would not find you alive,” Thorin whispered into her hair.

A small laugh bubbled up from her chest and she pulled back to look up at him. “At some point you’ll have to trust that I can handle myself.” She took stock of their surroundings, which all appeared to have gone untouched since Dale was abandoned sixty years ago. She remembered why she was even up here and turned back to Thorin.

“So, what’s the plan?”

“Azog is supposed to be up here, but as you can see, it looks empty,” Kili explained.

Dwalin crossed his arms over his sizable chest, analyzing the odd tower with the eyes of a seasoned warrior. “In war, appearances are rarely what they seem.”

“Indeed,” Thorin agreed. “Fili, Kili, scout out the tower and report back if you find anything. Do not engage.”

“Aye.”

“Hold up, lads, I’m coming, too.” Din turned to Thorin again, who gave her a stern look. She held up a hand to stop his protest. “Don’t bother trying to convince me otherwise. I’m going with them. But first, I need to return what is yours.” She dug into her pocket and withdrew the Arkenstone. Her guilt must have saddened her features because his brows creased in confusion and concern. “It was I, not Bilbo who took this from the mountain. I wanted to give it to you, but by the time I reached Erebor, you were already consumed by your grandfather’s treasure. I . . . I was so afraid that if I gave it to you, I would lose you. I couldn’t bare to see that happen to you.”

Thorin made no move to accept the stone. If anything, he seemed resistant to even look at it. Was he, too, afraid of losing himself again? Din pulled his hand forward and pressed the faintly illuminated gem into his thickly gloved palm. For several heart beats, all he did was look at her. When he did finally step forward, she assumed he was moving in for a grateful embrace, but the fingers of his free hand grazed across her cheek and brushed into her hair. She saw it coming now, but it still surprised her when his lips met hers. Her breath caught and she couldn’t react at first. Then she lifted to her tip-toes to bridge the height gap between them as best she could and returned the kiss. The blissful moment of eternity ended far too soon, but the battle pressed down on them.

The horrible screeching of goblins approached from the ruins. “I love you,” he whispered, and then said to both her and the boys, “Go.” Din was reluctant to leave Thorin and Dwalin to distract the goblins, but Fili tugged on her arm. It was time to go.

“Be safe,” she pleaded. Thorin nodded and ushered her to go. She turned and followed Kili and Fili into the fog that clung to the surface of the frozen water. It was tricky to cross without slipping. Her feet continuously slid across the sleek surface and she would bump into one of the lads. Almost knocked them over a few times, too. The tower still looked abandoned, even up close. If the orcs were hiding, they were adept at it. Fili poked his head through the door and signaled that it was clear. In they went. The halls were dark, but Din didn’t dare light the Silmaril. Further they delved, but still no sign of the enemy. Fili signaled for them to pause.

“This place is too big. We can’t spend all day creeping through the bloody place,” he whispered.

“It’s odd that they’re not here. It’s the perfect vantage point. Surely you actually spotted Azog atop this place before coming all the way up here?”

Kili nodded. “He was sending signals from the top. Where could his orcs have gone?”

Din was about to suggest they turn back to avoid cornering themselves in the dark when she caught the flickering of torchlight on the walls, approaching from around the corner. She gestured to it and the boys’ eyes widened. Fili gripped her arm and turned her around for them to flee. They made it about twenty paces when more torchlight came into view. The clattering of feet drew nearer from both sides and Din readied the Silmaril. As soon as the flood of orcs came into view, she released a stream of fire on them. With the condensed space, the fire seemed to do more damage. A handful of orcs died before they reached the dwarves and Kili and Fili lunged on those that remained. They continued to fight their way through and Din turned to burn the orcs behind them to hold them off. Instead, some sort of hooked rope wrapped around her ankles.

A hard yank ripped her of her feet. She threw her arms out to brace herself but her elbows collided into the brick with such painful force that the Silmaril flew from her hand. Her head smacked into the floor, leaving her disoriented. The hook, a grappling hook by the look of it, held her feet firmly gripped together. Someone started pulling on the rope to drag her across the floor closer to the approaching orcs. She screamed and caught grip of the hole of a missing brick to stop herself from being hauled into the mob. Fili and Kili spun to find her but their faces said what she already suspected. There were too many. A troop of the monstrosities sprinted past her and the orc at the other end of the rope continued to pull hard. The brick she held was coming loose.

“Just run!” she shrieked. The brick finally fell loose and her captor began to reel her in. Orcs kicked her as they stomped past and by the time she stopped scraping against the floor she felt dizzy and bruised. It was a few orcs who had pulled her in apparently, not just one.

“What’s the matter?” One of them spat in a gnarled voice. “No more fire stone?” Din snarled and reached for her sword, but a large foot clamped it to the floor before she could unsheath it. She tried not to look afraid when she looked up at Azog. The orc who had spoken turned to him, now using their tongue. Azog’s lips pulled away from sharp teeth in a wicked grin as he said something back. Her heart pounded in her chest. The orcs around her closed in and reached down for her.

 

* * *

 

 

Drums pounded from the tunnels behind her as Azog dragged her bruised body out. The sun was harsh after the dark conditions and the air was brisk and cruel. He held her by the back of her chainmail shirt and lugged her to the edge of the tower until her head peeked over. Below, she caught a glimpse of Fili and Kili before they hid in the door of the tower. The orcs who had pursued them lay slain on the ground outside.

Azog gave a rough kick to Din’s bruised stomach to roll her over and his large hand clamped down on her throat. He lifted her easily and held her so her feet dangled over the side. She gripped his wrist to hold herself up so she wouldn’t suffocate, though his grip was tight enough that she might anyway. He began calling something out, most likely to Thorin as a taunt, and Din subtly slipped two fingers into her wrist guard. He wasn’t even looking at her, didn’t see her as a threat, so it didn’t really matter. He continued to call out to Thorin while Din’s fingers found the handle of her slim dirk. Now she just had to trust that Fili and Kili will have seen her dangling over the side and were ready to catch her. One look at the wicked blade protruding from Azog’s other arm had her convinced that she would rather risk becoming paraplegic if the lads weren’t ready then have Thorin suffer to know she died at the hands of his mortal enemy.

Din took as deep a breath as she could manage with Azog’s hand gripped tightly around her throat and pulled the small blade from her wrist guard. She stabbed it through the wrist of the hand he held her with and ripped it out to stab again. Surprise and pain contorted Azog’s mangled face and he released her the way one would instinctively drop a hot pan. Once again, the sensation of free-falling overtook her.


	31. Chapter 31

As the orcs disappeared from her view, Azog shouted an order. She could guess what it was and found herself unable to breath until arms braced firm against her fall. Sure enough, several archers peeked over the edge of the tower, their gnarled bows at the ready. Fili and Kili lunged with Din into the doorway moments before several arrows sank into the frozen ground. The moment they were in safety, both lads crushed her with a hug from each side. As much as it hurt her battered body, it warmed her heart.

“We’re so sorry,” Fili muttered. “We didn’t want to leave you, there were just so many—”

“It’s alright, I told you to go. There was no point in trying to get through that many just for me,” she insisted. “We should go. The others will be worried.”

They stepped back and gave her jesting looks. “You mean Thorin will be worried?” Kili asked. She felt her face flush.

“Well, I . . .”

“It’s alright,” Fili said with a bemused shake of his head. He stooped down to wretch a shield from the grip of a dead orc and she searched for a sword to replace the one Azog had taken. Instead she found a pair of long daggers that would have to suffice. The orcs in the tower would likely find their way back out soon and the archers were most likely waiting for them to come out.

“Your stone?” Kili asked. Din shook her head sadly. He patted her shoulder comfortingly and then turned to follow Fili out the door. They worked with impeccable teamwork. Almost the instant they stepped outside, Fili deflected an arrow away from his brother’s head with a swipe of the shield while Kili readied an arrow of his own. He released it into the chest of one of the orcs and it tumbled from the rampart. Din could now hear the orcs stampeding down the stairs of the tower. With a glance across the river, she spotted Thorin and Dwalin sprinting for them.

Din, Fili, and Kili hid on either side of the door. With Thorin and Dwalin advancing, the orcs attention was drawn to them as they charged into the daylight. Kili began picking them off from behind as Dwalin and Thorin started to engage them. Din swung her blades tip-first into the doorway as an orc emerged and impaled itself on her daggers. She ripped them free and gashed the next across the chest. As it staggered forward she finished it off with a backward stab to the back, all the while turning to thrust her free blade into the collarbone of the next. She turned in time to see an orc with its blade raised above its head, ready to swing down on her. An arrow pierced through it’s head before it could and she lunged out of the way as it fell forward.

She shot Kili a grateful grin, which he returned. Slowly, but surely, they thinned out the orcs by having them surrounded. The element of surprise went a long way to securing their victory as well. Din was astonished to now find Bilbo among them.

It was short lived, however. A flurry of enormous bats flew overhead, accompanied by a battalion of a strange kind of orc that flowed over the ruins across the river. Someone, Bilbo she discovered, grabbed her hand and pulled her after the others up the stairs beside the tower to the rest of the ruins. They weren’t safe from the monsters for long, however. In the chaos that ensued, she lost track of everyone and was too busy trying to stay alive to look for them. The bats were more difficult to dispatch due to their small, nimble forms, but she managed to clear the air around her. At the first chance at a deep breath, she looked around wildly and found herself alone. She had merely slain the stragglers who had paused to kill her. Well, except for the rest of the horde pouring down on her. She took a few steps backward and jumped when someone suddenly spoke.

“Come with me.” Arthenon reached down and grabbed her arm. The spinning sensation took over again. She closed her eyes until it passed and found herself in a dim room of one of the only buildings that still seemed to be intact in this decimated place. Din hunched over to wretch, but there was nothing in her stomach to lose.

“Are you alright?” Arthenon asked. The dwarf nodded as she took deep breaths to help the nausea pass.

“I need to find my friends,” she finally said before fleeing the room. She moved at a quick pace a she navigated the seemingly endless number of dark hallways, peering out the small windows to make sure she was heading the right way. Eventually, she came to a room that was missing a wall. It was on the second floor, but she jumped out anyway. The frozen ground crunched beneath her feet. They were on elevated ground and she could see the frozen river below, glinting in the late afternoon sun.

“Wait,” Arthenon landed beside her and held her arm again.

She whirled on him. “I can’t wait, I need to find them.”

“Why weren’t you using your magic? You could have easily gotten rid of those things.”

“I . . .” Din hesitated. “I don’t have the stone. I lost it a little while ago.” Arthenon started to inquire for more specifics but a shout caught Din’s attention. There, on the ice, she spotted Thorin locked in battle with a few of the odd, monstrous orcs. Her heart tightened. Had he returned to the river to find her?

“Well, what happened to it? Where is it?” Arthenon persisted. Din growled when she turned to him.

“I lost it in the watchtower over there. Can’t you sense it?”

“I, well, no. I only found you because I came looking when the bats swarmed. I can’t sense it anymore. I . . .” The elf’s lips pursed. “We need to go look for it.”

“But Thorin—”

“Is your king, as you said, and should be more than capable of handling a few orcs. We cannot risk the stone being picked up by some orc filth and carried off.” He strode past her, hastening toward the watchtower.

“Arthenon!” She called after him. He made no sign that she had heard. He would take the stone, she knew, if she let him find it alone. If not with his hands, then with a cloth or something. But when she looked down at Thorin, she knew what her decision had to be. She clenched her fingers into fists and began sprinting down the shambled stone steps for Thorin. It seemed to take ages for her to even reach the ground floor and even longer to reach the river. She couldn’t seem to find Thorin anywhere.

“Thorin?” She called out. After a pause she heard the sounds of a fight drift on the wind and spotted Thorin’s curtain of dark hair whipping around as he dodged the swings of a large flail. Azog looked like a mountain compared to him. She gripped her daggers tighter and bolted for them. The giant missed once again and the boulder at the end of his chain settled on the ground. Din picked up speed and made a running leap, using it as a stepping stone to leap at the orc’s back. The daggers sunk into the enormous muscles rippling on his back and he staggered to his knees with a loud roar of pain.

He reached over and grabbed the back of her chainmail shirt and yanked her off him as if she were a doll. At least she had the sense to pull the daggers out. Her hair flew in front of her face as she soared through the air until she collided with Thorin. His arms were outstretched to catch her, but the force still knocked him off his feet. The back of her head smacked into his chest when they hit the ground and she heard the air rush from his lungs.

“I’m sorry,” she muttered as she rolled off of him to help him to his feet. Thorin looked over her head and gave her a rough shove to the side. She braced herself when her back started sliding across the ice and could do nothing to stop the flail from slamming into Thorin. “No!” She screeched. At first, Thorin didn’t move when he landed but she could see his chest moving up and down as he breathed. Azog advanced on Thorin until Din stood and drew his attention. The orc glowered at her and swung the flail. It was fairly easy to dodge since it moved slowly, but her heart pounded in her chest knowing the damage it would do if it ever found its mark.

The small dwarf wove around his blows until she was close enough to strike. Azog had to release the flail in order to move away from the sweep of her blades. She managed a few good gashes before he started to learn her style. He started to land blows to her ribs and face with his monstrous fist. He even taunted her by allowing her enough time to stand whenever the hit was hard enough to knock her to the ground. She staggered to her feet for the half-dosenth time and made to swing again but he dodged and grabbed her left arm. He smacked the dagger out of her right with his bladed arm and squeezed her left wrist tighter and tighter until she released the dagger with a scream. Then he kicked her feet out from under her so that she fell face-first onto the ice, but didn’t release her arm. Instead, he pressed a foot down on her upper arm and snapped her arm backward. Pain exploded as the upper bone snapped. She screamed.

Azog rolled her over and grabbed her by the throat again and dragged her over to where Thorin lay gasping for breath. With her broken arm and beaten body, there was little she could do to stop him, but she kicked him with what energy she had as he lifted her from the ice. It was no use. Her body was too broken to fight back anymore. It was difficult to hold herself up with just one arm as she had done on the watchtower and she could feel her lungs starting to burn for air.

Azog lifted his other arm, poised to stab her with its grotesque blade in front of Thorin. She started to squirm anew to no avail. Thorin gripped Orcrist tight and swung it at Azog, but the beast used his sword’s dual-bladed design to pin Thorin’s blade down. The point edged closer and closer to Thorin’s chest. She couldn’t breath. This couldn’t happen, but what could she do? Thorin’s blue eyes drifted to her and locked with her gaze. She could see the apology and grief in their icy blue depths. A sob whimpered from her lungs.

Thorin pulled his blade free of its struggle with Azog’s, allowing the jagged orcish blade to sink into his chest. Azog grinned wickedly and dropped Din as Thorin cried out. Din fell uselessly to the ground, landing poorly on her broken arm. The orc was either too elated with his victory or just too stupid, but he didn’t see it coming when Thorin rended Orcrist through his chest. Thorin rolled the stunned orc onto the ground to sink it further in. The orc’s limbs slumped against the ice as his life left him.

Thorin, unfortunately, was in no better condition. He fumbled wobbly to his feet, probably in shock from his wound. He was staring at the sky. Only then did she notice the eagles flying around. She forgot about them when Thorin fell to the ground once more. “Thorin,” she said, feeling tears sting her eyes. She stumbled to her feet and hurried over, falling at his side. “Thorin,” she repeated.

“Din,” he rasped. “You’re alright.”

“Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine. And you . . .” she said as she searched for his wound. It was bad. Really bad. She grimaced and pinched her eyes closed, unable to form the words to say he would also be alright. His hand found her cheek to brush a tear away with his thumb. “I’m sorry I failed you, my king,” she sobbed.

A glint beside Thorin’s eyes told her he, too, was crying, which broke her heart even more. “You did not fail me. As long as you are safe, the world will be brighter.”

“Thorin!” Din heard Bilbo cry out. The hobbit scampered over and knelt at Thorin’s other side. After one look at Thorin’s wound, he tried not to gag.

"Bilbo, I'm glad you're here. I wish to part from you in friendship."

"No," Bilbo argued. "You're not going anywhere, Thorin. You're going to live."

"Bilbo . . ." Din muttered with a wobbling lip.

"I take back my words and my deeds at the gate. You did what only a true friend would do. Forgive me. I was too blind to see it. I am so sorry that I have led you into such peril." Thorin gave a haggard cough, his words thick with emotion.

"No, I'm glad to have shared in your perils, Thorin. Each and every one of them. It is far more than any Baggins deserves."

Thorin smiled and his voice grew quieter. "Farewell, Master Burglar. Go back to your books and your armchair. Plant your trees. Watch them grow. If more people valued home above gold, this world would be a merrier place." Thorin groaned and tried to breathe, but it was obvious it was painful to do so. He turned to Din again. "I am sorry, amrâlimê. We will meet again in the Halls of Waiting." Din couldn't help a sob, nor could she stop the tears from pouring down her cheeks. She pressed her forehead to his and pressed her right hand to the side of his face.

"Men lananubukhs menu," she said in their tongue. He smiled weakly and closed his eyes before he went still. He was gone. She wasn't sure how long she sat beside him, crying. One by one, the rest of the company found them. All except for Kili, who she learned had also fallen at the hands of the leader of the second orcish army. She only looked up when a glimmering stone was pressed to the ground near her. Din looked up into Arthenon’s face, downcast with sadness for her grief. He released the stone and stepped back, returning it to her. The battle was over. The aid of the eagles had brought them to victory. But she couldn’t seem to stop crying.

 

* * *

 

 

TA 3023, Erebor, The Lonely Mountain  
83 years after the Battle for Erebor, Four years after the War of the Ring

Din stepped cautiously into the tomb. It had been a long time since she had come down here. A very long time. She held the Silmaril out, letting its light illuminate the room. A second source of light ignited from a staff to the left of King Thorin’s crypt. The wizard’s blue eyes shone bright in the white light.

“Why did you want me to meet you here, Gandalf?” The wizard looked down at the crypt.

“I do not believe he is truly dead.”

Din clenched her fingers into fists. “Why in the name of Durin would you make such a claim after so many years. I was there when he died, Gandalf. You know that.” She turned to leave, boiling with anger, but guilt settled in her gut. “I know you mean well, but no good can come from digging up such old wounds.” She started to march out when the loud rumble of stone sliding against stone made the floor rumble. Din turned to see the large slab atop his coffin slide off from a spell of Gandalf’s.

“What are you doing?” She cried out in outrage. She bolted back over. Gandalf simply stared inside and she couldn’t help looking as well, even though she knew it would horrify her to see Thorin’s bones. But it was not his bones that she found. She gasped and gaped like a fool. Thorin’s body remained unchanged. No, not unchanged. His wounds were gone, replaced with scars as if he had simply healed over time and his skin was a colorless grey. His hands were cupped on his chest, where the Arkenstone rested. No one outside the company knew it had been buried with him. “What—” She could find no more words.

“Do you see the similarities?” Gandalf asked.

“Between what?” Din sputtered. The wizard’s glance slid to the glowing stone in her hand and she felt her eyes widen. She stared down at the Arkenstone.

“You think the Arkenstone is a Silmaril?”

“Not only that. I think it is bound to him the way yours is to you. Yours bonded with you when you were willing to sacrifice your own life to save Kili’s as children. I believe the same thing happened when Thorin sacrificed himself for you.”

“But how could he be alive?” Din asked.

“It is more as if he sleeps rather than death; A stasis that sustains his body until his soul can be returned to it. I believe the stone stored his soul somewhere.”

Din could not pull her gaze from Thorin’s still face. “If he slumbers, then we can wake him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: And thus, we reach the rumor that inspired me to write this story in the first place; Speculations that the Arkenstone might be a Silmaril. I hope you enjoyed the ending! I know “amrâlimê” isn’t actually a dwarvish term, but since there isn’t really one for “my love” I decided to use the one the movie came up with. And as for why I saved Fili, I felt his death was pointless in the movie. It accomplished nothing except to shock the audience and then he was never even mentioned again. D: So rather than letting Dain swoop in and get the throne, I wanted to keep Fili so he could be king.


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